Trigun: Infinity
by pottachu
Summary: 4 yr.s after the series a mysterious teenager seeks out Vash, Millie is overcoming an unknown illness, Meryl is engaged, and plants have been dying for a reason Knives is hiding, one that involves Wolfwood's past. Completed.
1. Prologue

**Please read** author's note: It has come to my attention that some of the Trigun: _Infinity_ readers are confused with this story. So to help them and prevent others, let me give some more information on exactly what kind of story this is. Trigun: _Infinity_ has a lot of mystery. Like the original Trigun (which I do not own, all belongs to Nightow), this story doesn't give you the whole perspective right away. For example, we didn't know what Vash was, who Rem was, or what happened to July at the starting of the series, but that information became part of the story- same idea. If you are confused, that's okay; you're not supposed to understand everything right away. I plant hints and characters' actions throughout the story, but I promise if you stick with it, it will all make sense in the end. Oh, and just a little note, you can generally find more info about this story on my profile page.

* * *

It was a night that children felt uneasy, one of those nights that seem to creep whether or not someone is really in the alley way, or around the corner. It seemed oddly silent, and even the bars were nearly empty as most reasonable men had to go to work in the morning. Like the bar, the wind was sober. Normally about two nights like this one happened per week during this time of year…but at the same time, to one individual, it would never be a night he would forget.

Apart from his determination, he still felt a chill of fear, and at the same, excitement; adrenaline. His emotions changed with each block he walked due to the change in his thoughts. Yes, it was what he wanted. He had been waiting for this moment for years.

A pure white cat prowled behind him with big red eyes that saw only this man.

This man…he was young, but looked at least ten years older than his true age. His hair was a tangled mess- like everything else about him.

Doing this was the only way to escape it. It was the past that couldn't be forgotten, that would bring forth this future.

Finding the humor in this, he smiled. It would all be worth it.

This night…and the deadly night that would appear in several days, would get _His _attention.

The man stopped.

The plants, that gave this city its life, glowed luminously along with the moons.

"Why didn't you come, Janell?" The man asked out loud. "Now I have to do this all alone, but it's for you too." He smiled again; it was disturbing, but pitiful too.

In his mind he remembered the woman…she was always crying and begging…but she was right in some things…

"It was all Knives…"

The white cat rubbed against the man's legs.

In return, the man glanced away from the plants. His gray eyes found the small entrance to their home.

His hand moved around the container that was in his pocket- full of some kind of pastel liquid.

He took one last breath of the warm air and darted for the entrance.

Of course some sort of security system was present, but it was easy for him to shut it off. He was skilled with electricity. Some type of spark seemed to come from his hand and disrupt the system. A talent he had had since before he could remember.

Without another thought of holding back, he went through the door of the building. Tonight would be the beginning… the beginning of a fight for freedom, a search for blood, and a lust for revenge.


	2. Coincidence

BOOM!

Long hard work crumbled in a matter of seconds, leaving a haze of dust in the room.

A dark male figure hidden behind the debris was moving forward. The silhouette of the man outlined his strength and physique. He looked experienced and threatening, mysterious even.

"What is that? Stay away, I won't give in!" Harold cried, gripping a woman's neck. He was desperate, but found strength when confronted with the mystifying shadow. Where he obtained his bravery was unknown. Unlike the figure before him, Harold was seeing the latter end of his life, he was over weight, and balding, but drastic enough to get himself into this situation.

The woman subject to his actions was visiting the town. She had just arrived two days ago. But now she felt fear itching across her feminine body. Before today she had never met Harold, and at the moment she had wished she never had. Shaking, strands of hair fell onto her sweating face. Her rigid breathing rang through the air with intensity. If she ever got out of this alive, she would swear to live every moment of her life with more meaning and self expression.

Harold held his arm in front of him, a gun twitching in his hand. He had barricaded himself with this woman inside a small murky storage closet of a department store. He had tried to steal the money at the cash register calmly, but when the circumstances turned on him, he grabbed a hostage instead.

"Shut up!" He ordered the woman.

She shut her mouth, muffling her loud quivering breaths.

Harold watched the man behind the dust grow larger. He was coming closer and closer.

Beads of sweat rolled down his face. Several dripped onto the woman, corrupting her feminine beauty.

Suddenly a tap on the shoulder brought alarm onto Harold's face. He jumped, and whirled around.

"Boo!"

Harold tried to regain himself at the intake of the face, but despite his best efforts, the gun fell free of his sweaty hand and clattered to the floor.

The man's hair looked like he had done it while upside down. Locks of blond were standing on end save for a few strands that gravity had claimed. He was a gunman with an earring, a handgun, and a bright red coat.

"Do me a favor," the golden-locked man suggested. "Next time you can't get a date, find another girl to ask before you take one for hostage. They're just to pretty to be pushed into such circumstances."

"What are you sayin'?" Harold glared with his bushy eyebrows.

The gunman just smiled.

"You sayin' I'm wrong?"

"I'm _sayin'_ you might want to duck."

"What-!"

"Ouch, right in the head. You didn't have to be so cruel miss, he just likes you." The gunman commented as Harold collapsed on the ground from a kick to the head. The woman stood proudly behind him. From now on she was going to let people have a piece of her mind, she had been taken advantage of one too many times. Well, not anymore! This moment forward, she was sticking up for herself.

"He was asking for it the moment he grabbed my butt!" The hostage continued by spiting on the criminal.

"Well, so much for part two of '_Rescuing a Damsel'_, I don't want to get hit in the head with those shoes." He laughed nervously.

She looked at him, debating. He _had_ rescued her, but she felt no desire for the man.

"Vash, don't you know that contradicts the title '_Rescuing a Damsel_?'" Another blond gunman appeared from the dust. Unlike the first, his hair wasn't broom-like, but pretty much in an average position. He wasn't wearing a large red coat, but a dark overcoat and his ears were both earring-less. Personally, the hostage thought he was quite a handsome piece of work.

"At least I don't _look_ for the title of 'Walking Disaster'. There's a door, did you really have to blast a hole in the wall to get in?" Vash asked agitated.

"It doesn't bother me. You're the conspicuous one, they'll look passed me and blame you, accident or not."

Vash shut his mouth. This was such a true statement that it was impossible to argue.

"Okay, okay, I'm _sorry_…" His twin apologized in a mocking voice.

"It's not funny, my record is bad enough already."

At a glance the woman would prefer the less striking one, but as she watched them, regardless of their conversation, she felt more at ease with the upside down one. It made little sense to her, considering he apparently had a stained record.

"Yeah, with me around I'm surprised they haven't sent anymore insurance girls after you." He agreed. "And then you wouldn't have to keep hitting on all these other girls- no offense Miss, but trust me, he's not your guy."

Vash frowned. "Don't tell her that…"

"Oops, sorry, it slipped."

"Again?"

"You know I'm joking."

"Yes, but it still hurts."

"Stop being so sentimental," he said bluntly. "Anyway, they're having a sale on donuts, and I'll make it up to you."

"Really?" Vash's eyes sparkled.

"Yeah, those sugar ones. I'll treat you. Did you bring your wallet?"

A sweat-drop appeared on Vash. "Gee, thanks Knives, you're so kind." He said monotonously.

"What are brothers for?" Knives gripped his twin's shoulder.

….

"Knives, would you get the door?" Vash asked as he added excess carrots to a boiling pot of soup. He watched the broth bubble with orange chunks plummeting into it. "Knives? Please?" He repeated, trying to keep his patience that his brother loved to test so much. True, his brother had once been _a lot_ harder to handle, but finally his abuse on others had been reduced to sly verbal remarks aimed only at Vash.

"I'm going, brother," Knives replied and began walking to the door sluggishly.

He opened it and looked down at the teenaged boy. Messy gold hair fell onto his face. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark black sunglasses. He wore khaki pants, a white shirt, and a tie that was green and black striped. Knives noted it looked like some kind of expensive school uniform. Oh how he loathed the adolescent…and children… and even the elderly. None of them seemed to know how to keep to themselves and they could never stop talking.

"What do you want?" Knives asked, aiming for intimidation.

"Is Vash home?" The teenager asked, unaffected.

"Vash who?" Knives tested. He stared into the sunglasses. The lenses were so dark he was unable to depict any line or curve of the stranger's eyes. Typical, probably the new style developed by the high-status. For some reason adolescents were always trying to find themselves through something someone else had made up.

"Vash…the Stampede…"

"Who are you?"

"Clint."

"Clint who?" Knives asked suspiciously.

"Clint…" The teenager paused. "Stryfe." He said the first name that came into his head, but quickly realized his mistake as color drained from Knives' face.

"Clint Stryfe?" Knives repeated, feeling edgy. His intimidation disintegrated as he stared at the teenager.

He nodded.

"Who is it?" Vash asked entering the room.

Clint looked at the gunman.

"Vash…" Knives turned on him, teeth clenched. "Is there something you forgot to tell me?"

Vash stared at his brother blankly, trying to gain the faintest understanding of what was going on. Obviously he had upset his brother again, and of course was unaware of what he had done.

"This is Clint _Stryfe_." Knives emphasized the last name.

A sweat-drop clung to Clint and he prayed they wouldn't see his anxiety.

"Stryfe? But that sounds like…" Joy swelled in Vash as his high hopes bloomed. Maybe, just maybe he was related to Meryl and could tell him all about her latest lifestyle- if she was still working at Bernardeli or where she was or just that he'd seen her! Finally he would hear about one of his best friends he hadn't seen in years!

Vash was about to burst with questions when Knives spoke and predictably destroyed his joy.

"Seems like you were a little friendlier with Ms. Insurance Girl that you let on."

Sweat-drops reappeared on Clint and Vash. They made eye contact only a half of a second before Vash cried "What! No! He's not- I never-!" He went red at the thought. "You don't think-!" He couldn't stand the convinced face on Knives and he suddenly felt anger towards his brother.

"You know I wasn't ever like that with Meryl!"

"That's what you told me, but how would I know, dear brother? I was half dead!"

"No!" Vash cried back with authority, but still red. "I never did that!"

"Well, he looks just like you!" Knives gestured to Clint. The statement was practical, the teenager standing in the doorway resembled Vash so much that the gunman felt unnatural. The hair color, facial features, body built were all identical.

"Well, he's not mine! He could just as well be yours!" Vash regained himself.

"Yeah? You're right Vash, I was secretly with Meryl behind your back! Although it was a little hard considering I had _several bullet holes_. But I managed." Knives scoffed.

Clint watched the two wondering why he had to pick "Stryfe." Honestly he should have known better than to mingle with Vash's personal life.

"I would have told you!" Vash growled.

"Maybe you didn't know!" Knives stepped toward Vash with intimidationn.

"I would have told you we-"

"You would have not! Who would?"

"You think I would have just used her and then sent her back?" Vash asked bewildered.

"You don't seem to have a problem with other girls, and that!"

"Fine, ask him yourself!" Vash pointed to Clint.

It went silent.

Knives glared at the teenager as if it was his fault he both resembled Vash and shared the insurance girl's last name.

Cautiously, Clint stared through his sunglasses.

"Well?" Knives barked

Clint remained quiet, thinking as fast as he could of a conclusion.

"Who are you parents?" Knives ordered.

It was at this serious moment of confrontation that Vash let out a laugh.

They both looked at him.

"Listen. Clint, how old are you?" Vash asked with new confidence.

"Er…"

"It's not a test, just state your age." He insisted.

"I'm almost 15." Clint answered.

"See, Knives?" He beamed. "I haven't even known Meryl that long!" Vash laughed. "You're too high-strung!"

Knives, feeling humiliated about jumping to conclusions, shut his mouth.

Vash laughed again, "She would have been like what? 10, 11 years old?"

"At least I can cook soup." Knives said bitterly. His eyes darted back to the teenager with irritation.

"Wha-! Oh no!" Vash dashed towards the kitchen, calling "want to stay for dinner, Clint?"

The teenager remained silent.

"Don't count on it, there's no dinner anymore." Knives said. He retreated back into the living room, leaving Clint puzzled in the door way.

….

Once Vash had everyone sitting down with food (take out) on their plate, he plummeted into questions he felt he was dying to ask.

"So, you're related to Meryl Stryfe?" He asked.

"Well…"Clint hesitated.

"Well?"

"She…"

Vash leaned closer.

"Meryl Stryfe is my fourth or fifth cousin." Clint concluded.

"Fourth or fifth cousin?" Vash repeated. His eagerness began to diminish. "Then you probably don't know her very well, huh?"

"Er- actually, my family is pretty big on reunions and things, I don't know if she really remembers me, but I know about her." He said quickly. The teenager stared down at the little brown table, he could tell by the scratches on its surface that it must have been here before Vash and Knives moved in.

"She's a really good friend of mine and I was hoping you would tell me what she's been doing lately…" Vash sighed.

Knives let out a small laugh at his brother's suspenseful voice. "You've always been hypocritical. You sent them away and now it's like your _dying_ for those girls to come back." Knives threw his fork into the food, leaving it stabbed into his baked potato. He saw Vash reflected upside down on its shining surface.

"They're really good friends," Vash defended.

"Then why did you ask them to leave?" His brother responded smugly.

Vash didn't say anything. Knives couldn't yet understand how much they meant to him. Because he loved them, he sent them away. Because he loved Meryl, he sent her away to find a more suitable lifestyle. After nursing Knives back to life, he had requested their departure. Vash hadn't seen either of them for over four years.

"So what did you want with Vash?" Knives asked Clint, ignoring Vash's sentimental expression. He stared at the teenager across the table.

"I wanted to meet him." Clint peered down through the sunglasses at his food.

"Meet Vash?" Knives asked. Clearly something was wrong with this picture. "Why?"

Vash looked up at Clint and an odd sensation fell over him, like he was staring at an alternate version of himself. If he didn't know better, he would have believed the teenager to be his son in a glance. And although he wasn't keen to point fingers, he was beginning to wonder if Knives was being completely honest...if not Meryl, any girl.

"Why?" Clint repeated.

"Are you sure he's not yours Vash? Because I think he inherited his listening from you. He needs everything repeated." Knives pointed out. He pulled the fork free leisurely, examining its potato specks.

"I wanted to meet him because I want to ask him if he'll teach me how to shoot so well," Clint explained and to make things sound more realistic, he decided to add "There's a tournament and lots of money involved. Vash is a legendary gunman. Where else would I go?"

"Target practice for a tournament?" Vash asked. Stomach full, he put his silverware down.

"If you would…" Clint said.

"Won't," Knives answered.

"Hey, I can decide for myself! I'm not a child," Vash insisted glancing at his brother.

"Could have fooled me."

Vash ignored Knives' comment. "How does tomorrow afternoon sound?"

Knives crinkled his eyebrows. "You're agreeing?"

"Sure, why not?" Vash asked. Knives had been irritating him all day, and the last thing he felt like doing was being ordered around by him like some slave. Personally, Vash still didn't think Knives had gotten over the fact that everyone else had just as much right as he in this world. He often made sly remarks towards humans and played with their minds like a hobby. People were constantly forgetting information and having drastic mood swings when around them.

Slightly surprised, Knives thought it out of character for Vash to agree to this with so little information. Vash was the type who liked to know all the details, especially when the event had the potential to hurt someone.

"You can just come over here," Vash decided. "And then we'll go find a place to practice together."

"I was kind of hoping…I could stay here, since I have no where else to stay…" Clint said sheepishly, fidgeting with his fork.

"No," Knives answered flatly, but he was once again ignored.

"Where's your family?" Vash asked over him.

"They're in Damron, I came alone."

"In that case, consider this your home for now. We'll take care of you!" Vash said happily.

"Thanks a million, I was getting worried." The teenager admitted.

"No need to worry anymore! Okay maybe you should, I'm not just a legendary gunman, I'm a legendary disaster as well."

Vash cleared his plate in delight. Somehow his distaste with Knives had evaporated. It had been so long since he had had company. At times he felt even more alone with his brother than when he was sitting secluded in deep thought.

….

That night Vash was once again confronted by Knives. This was a usual routine which generally consisted of little petty arguments made through out the day, but tonight Knives broke out of the mundane.

"Okay Vash, you're getting on my nerves." Knives admitted. "Maybe he's not Meryl's, but he must be yours."

Although he had gone to bed over an hour ago, Clint was awake, listening to the conversation outside his door. Vash and Knives sure had a hard time agreeing on subjects, Clint thought. Was he really going to have to put up with it for the next several weeks? Or months?

"You heard him, he's Meryl's fourth cousin and I know he's not my _son_," Vash stumbled on the last word, but continued to stare directly into Knives' eyes.

"That was a lie Mr. Gullible, everything he said was a lie." Knives growled. He looked perturbed. An expression Vash knew only too well was plastered on his face.

"Why do you have to be so accusing?"

"Why must you be so trusting? To everyone? You think you would learn with your title."

"I have no reason not to believe him, he's just a kid."

"Zauzie was a kid and he tried to kill you," Knives stared motionless into Vash's eyes as if testing him. The phrase lingered in the air for several seconds, soaking into their minds.

"Don't talk to me about who's tried to kill me, Knives. I know neither one of us want to discuss it. Zauzie didn't know any better…and Clint hasn't done anything to break my trust." Vash answered.

Knives was silent for along time before continuing. He let possibilities roam through his mind again. "I'm not angry with you, Vash, but please just be honest with yourself, and with me. He looks almost identical to you."

"It must be coincidence." Vash shrugged.

"I don't believe in coincidences." Knives confirmed. "I won't be angry, just tell me the truth."

"I have told you the truth. He's not mine."

Knives stared at Vash in disbelief and Vash almost began to question his own knowledge. Knives' hawk-like eyes tended to do that to individuals. His stare was so stern and confident that even if he had been questioning whether or not the sky was blue, a meteorologist would hesitate.

"How do you know?" Knives asked.

"Because I've never-" Vash began to go red again. The fact was really quite stupid, and he was unsure of how to words himself when under those icy eyes. "Listen, I love women, but never actually- I've never actually done something like that!"

"You expect me to believe that?" Knives cocked an eyebrow.

"Yes! I'm…" Vash went redder. "For the life of me, I don't have the guts! It's wrong!" He cried. His face flushed a deeper scarlet under Knives' gaze. How could his brother possibly understand all the nooks and cranes inside his head when they both thought so differently? Vash had personally had his bad share of women. None of them seemed to fall for his romantic way, and those that did invite him for an evening were unaware of his physical shape. His scars caked nearly every inch of his body. If any woman he had taken a liking in had seen them, he was sure they would turn away with a sense of fear. All save for one.

Vash resented his own insecurities, and besides that some part of him felt like there needed to be _more, _and he was admittedly unable to commit to anything at the moment. Surely anyone he encountered deserved more than the packaging of bloodshed and turmoil that came with him. Such a relationship and dream was undoubtedly selfish.

"You don't have the guts?" Knives repeated.

"No. Sometimes I feel like…" He stopped. His attempt to explain his tangled feelings would be unappreciated by his brother. Likewise, it would only open another area for his beliefs to be attacked.

"But you've always…" Knives started. He stared at his brother's dramatic face seriously. "Vash, you're over 130 years old."

"Well, maybe he's yours then." Vash snapped.

"Mine?" Knives responded skeptically.

"Considering we're brothers and twins, we look a little similar, don't we?"

"Never. Humans? No." Knives said disgusted.

Vash's color was going back to its normal shade.

"Okay, so he's neither of ours, it's clarified." He concluded.

"I suppose, but I still don't trust him."

Clint rolled over. He was glad they had come to an agreement of his origin. The last thing he wanted to do was shatter their trust from the already jagged shards. Now he just had to gain Knives'.

Taking a deep breath he closed his tired eyes. He continued wondering about them until his thoughts faded into blissful sleep.

….

"Breakfast!" Vash cried opening the door to the teenager's temporary bedroom. The room was small and nearly naked, seeing as Clint brought very little on his journey. The cream-colored walls still possessed several cob webs, and the edges of the floor contained specks of dust.

"Rise and shine, no reason to sleep all day!" Vash said happily.

Clint scrambled for his sunglasses as Vash neared his bed. Placing them securely on, he opened his eyes to see the gunman standing by his mattress with a green apron fastened comfortably to his body.

"Hope you like waffles!" The outlaw smiled. "A boy your age should always want waffles!"

Clint looked up at Vash's joyful face and he suddenly realized how empty his stomach felt. "Waffles? I haven't had good waffles for years and I've heard yours are the best!" He shared.

"Really? Now you get to try them!" If possible, the comment seemed to brighten his expression even more. So much that it looked out of place among the grey particles of dust.

He led Clint out of the room and down the small flight of rickety stairs. The last step creaked under their weight, but Vash took no notice of it.

"Do you have any powdered sugar?" Clint asked him.

"You like powdered sugar on them?" Vash inquired.

"Yeah, don't you?"

"Yeah, but I've never met anyone else who likes them that way." He said thoughtfully.

The aroma of waffles filled the kitchen when they entered it. As Clint had remembered from the night before, the kitchen was petite. A round wooden table had been squeezed into it- next door to the sink- and just a few cupboards were found along the wall. Dirty dishes were waiting patiently in to be washed while a soon-to-be empty bottle of soap rested on the shelf above them. Knives was already seated with a humble stack of waffles on his plate.

"Knives, guess what? Clint likes them like I do!" Vash announced to his brother.

"With powdered sugar?" Knives asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yup!"

Vash pulled out the white fluff from a cupboard that contained miscellaneous food items. The package was only half full and twisted shut. He brought it to the little table, putting it down next to a plate full of freshly made waffles. Between the three of them, their plates, silverware, butter, and syrup, the table was completely garnished.

"Clint, I'm sorry about what I said yesterday," Vash apologized as he placed several waffles onto his plate. "I'm sure you'd be a great son, but you're not mine, I didn't mean to sound upset."

"It's fine, I understand, and you're not my father."

"It sounded very inconsiderate." Vash added

"Who is your father?" Knives pressed.

"He passed away several years ago…" Clint poured syrup on his waffles. "He used to make me waffles too." He smiled remembering. "But his tasted a little different."

"I'm sorry," Vash said concerned. Perhaps his good deed for the teenager had turned into a bad one full of bittersweet memories.

"Don't worry about it," Clint answered finding it hard to look at anything but his waffles. "I'm okay now. Anyway, my mom tells me that he lives on through me." He said awkwardly.

"You have a smart mom," Vash complimented.

"Very." Clint agreed with a small smile.

Stuffing another waffle into his mouth, Vash proceeded to massacre the next in syrup as he chewed. Disgusted, Knives watched, cutting his own waffle into even pieces and distributing them one by one into his mouth. He always ate with some sort of dignity, holding his silverware correctly and twisting his wrist ever so slightly when he sipped from a cup. His eyes lingered over the other two examining their actions.

Vash swallowed and asked, "Do you have any siblings?"

"No."

Clint cut his waffles into fourths and smothered them in powder sugar before introducing them one by one to the fork.

Knives observed him. "Is there a reason you wear those sunglasses in the house?" He asked.

"No, I just like them a lot."

"Why?"

"My dad gave them to me." He answered.

Knives eyed him with suspicion, popping another waffle fragment into his mouth. Obviously something was seriously odd about this kid.

Full at last, Vash pushed his plate away with satisfaction. It missed a collision with the syrup by centimeters.

"I'll let you guys get ready for the day while I pick up a few things at the market," Vash said. "Then we can go shooting."

"Sure," Clint agreed.

"What about the dishes?" Knives asked, shooting a dirty glance at the sink. "They're filthy."

"Then maybe you should wash them," Vash suggested. He held back from pointing out it was _his_ week to do them.

Knives stared at the heap exploding out of the sink, a look of pure loathing stamped on his face. "I'm not touching _that_."

"Well, they're not going to get washed by themselves," Vash told him. "I'm not doing them. I need to go to the store- we're almost out of toothpaste and plenty of other things."

Knives shot a glance at Clint in consideration- an idea hatching in his head. He had heard adolescents were hard to delegate to, but this one was peculiar enough. Just a little persuasion and he was sure to have the job done before Vash returned.

….

'What am I doing?' Vash wondered on his way to the market. 'I hardly know him, and I'm going to teach him to use a gun for some tournament that contains who knows what! It's not like me. He's just a teenager. He needs somewhere to stay. What else can I do? He came all the way to see me anyway.' Vash turned onto a new street and let out a sigh. All these thoughts in his head, the tournament and everything… they were just cover ups weren't they? That's how it had been with Millie and Meryl. Vash had told himself he had tried to lose them. Several times he actually did, but in reality he had just grown too fond of them and too addicted to their company during his times of anxiety. Knives was always with him, but yet so far away. Already he was fond of Clint, his innocence, characteristics, and personality. Vash could be so selfish that way…

He entered the market and began picking up his items in a half daze. When his arms were full, he wandered over to the long line in front of the cashier. The store was petite, but had the best prices in town. Everyone seemed to come this morning to beat the afternoon rush.

'There's nothing to worry about, Clint is a good kid, and he likes my waffles with powdered sugar.'

The outlaw was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't even notice the women in front of him until he caught her face as she turned to leave. And that's when it happened.

His whole body and mind was wiped clean, remembering only the soft face and lively eyes. As a result all his items clattered to the floor. He didn't bother to watch them hit the ground but kept his eyes fastened to the violet haired female.

The women turned to look. Their eyes locked.

Vash had been praying for this moment to happen for years, but because he had Clint on his mind, he had ruined everything he had planned for by staring into those big beautiful lavender eyes.

She was even more beautiful than before. Her hair was several inches longer, just above her shoulders, and flipped out on the ends. Yet still the same shade of lavender. Her clothes still consisted of the business-like look, but exercised the combination of a black skirt, white blouse, and a black business jacket. Her earrings were hoops, and her make-up was much more enhancing. With all this, Vash hadn't picked her out. He could have been on his way without even noticing her…but those eyes and that height were enough to sum it all up.

Meryl had recognized the gunman instantly, unlike her, he looked _exactly _the same. He always looked the same. The broom head locks were sticking on end just as she had remembered. His eyes were the same shade, and his face looked like it hadn't aged a single day.

She wasn't sure what to say or do or even think. Their good-bye had left her confused, and emotionally weary, but she did exactly what Vash had told her.

"…_move on…_" She hadn't had the words cross her mind in ages, but yet she could remember days where those _were_ the _only_ words that crossed her mind.

The moment was so awkward. How was she supposed to act?

"Meryl?" Vash asked in a small voice.

Meryl still stared at him. 'What should I say?' She wondered.

"Hey…Vash…" She replied.

Idiot! What is he doing just staring at her? Vash shook himself out of his trance. "It's been a while," he said. A small smile crossed his face. "You made me drop my stuff."

Meryl stared at him, still feeling unsure how to act. She knew that smile so well, but it looked so old and out of place now.

"Here, let me help…it's my fault, I guess." She answered.

Meryl started gathering Vash's personal supplies, feeling the sooner they were picked up, the sooner she could be on her way.

'That's fast,' Vash thought as she handed them to him before he could even object. His brain seemed to be moving slowly now, like his thoughts were treading through thick mud instead of a fully functional mind.

"Wow, thanks! You're fast." He answered and then placed his item on the counter before them.

Meryl didn't say anything.

"Hey! You should come over for a while!" Vash suggested as the cashier added his items.

"Well…" Meryl started.

"We obviously have some catching up to do! It would be fun, wouldn't it?"

"Fun?" Meryl repeated.

"Yeah, well… then again you used to say I gave you heck, and I'm still a walking disaster…but at least I get the name on accident. Knives on- Knives! You can see him too… as long as he doesn't embarrass me again, he tends to do that." Vash said thoughtfully. He had forgotten that when Meryl had left them his brother had been almost completely bed ridden.

Vash paid for the sum of his supplies, and grabbed the bags in each hand.

"Knives?" Meryl asked, and felt slightly embarrassed she hadn't even thought of the man who gave Vash the ingredients to "make life heck" in the first place.

"Yeah. I'm warning you ahead of time, and asking an apology for his rash behavior, but he's not all that bad."

Even with his bags of items, he held the door open for Meryl, feeling like his feet were walking on air. Could he even express how much he missed her company? How alone he had felt with his brother?

"It's not too far from here…" He told her. "Anyway, what are you doing here? On business? What kind? Is Millie here? How is she? How long-"

"One question at a time!" Meryl hollered, distressed. She then added "please" to mellow Vash's surprise. The gunman smiled back at her.

"I'm sorry, I guess I'm a little too excited…" Vash looked away. "Haven't seen you for a long time." He mumbled.

"I'm passing through here on business. I'm investigating the damage behind the plant in December. I should have suspected to see you. I'm supposed to meet Millie there. It will be her first assignment for nearly a year, so I haven't seen her for a very long time."

"Why hasn't she been working?" Vash inquired.

"She got really ill, they didn't know what was wrong with her so she had to be taken to December for better medical help and technology. She's doing better now, and will be released when I'm there."

"I had no idea. That's awful." Vash said in dismay. "Poor girl, I'll have to buy her some pudding."

Meryl smiled weakly.

"How is she about Wolfwood?"

"Wolfwood?" Meryl asked. It had been years since she had heard the name, she never dared mention him to Millie, but she seemed over it. "She hasn't talked about him much."

"That's good, I suppose. He wouldn't want her to be sad."

"No," Meryl agreed. "He wouldn't…"

As Meryl listened to Vash, she realized her life was split in two, one part included the outlaw, and the other had never known or had nearly forgotten him; almost like she, herself, was split in two as well. It made her sick in a strange way. With every word he said a pit in her stomach was dug deeper.

Didn't he understand her life was different now? Nearly half a decade had passed. She wasn't surrounded by outlaws anymore, she wasn't emotionally stressed anymore…she didn't even know who Vash the Stampede was anymore, nor the violet-haired insurance girl that followed him, entranced by his soul. Too much had happened since then, and it wasn't that she didn't want to be friends with Vash anymore, but was she even friends with him? Well, yes, she must be, she's walking with him, and unable to tell him anything of what was her everything.

"This is it!" Vash announced the tiny house. It could easily be passed by or ignored if one wasn't too careful.

"You're living here?" Asked Meryl, she had always known Vash to be a constant traveler.

"I'm renting it, but we'll be out by the end of the month. Knives really doesn't like hotels or motels."

Inside the little house, it was just as squished, creating a very short walk to the living room. The living room contained two couches, and an empty book case against the wall that was slowly gathering dust.

Vash happily sat down on the furthest couch, and Meryl stiffly sat on the one across. She put her brown paper bag from the market down at her feet.

"Well...um..."

"What's with the new style? I like it." Vash asked.

"Thought I would try something new, you know, _start over_?"

"Wow. How's Bernardeli these days?"

"Busy…" Meryl looked anywhere but him.

"So where are you going again?"

"To the plant disruption."

"Oh yeah… it was really bad, wasn't it?" Vash asked sadly. "Lots of people died and no one knows what happened. They say the plant was fine, and the next moment it was completely out of control. I knew something was wrong, I could sense it from clear out here, so could Knives, we both woke up. I'd be there now if we weren't staying in this house."

Meryl didn't know what to say, but yet was angry at Vash for putting her in such an awkward position. She felt obligated to come here under no force. This trait was one Vash had obliviously used on her countless times. Somehow he had a way of making her do something she would other wise stray from.

"Did they ever find out what was wrong with Millie?"

"I suppose, if she is going to be released."

Vash wasn't satisfied with Meryl's lack of knowledge. Meryl and Millie had been inseparable. They were a team, they worked together. He wasn't meant to run into one and find the other iles and iles away.

"I hope she's alright," Vash thought out loud.

"Yeah…" Meryl glanced at her watch.

"Er- you know, Knives and I were planning to go to December, once our rent is off- in a few days. If you wanted to…"

How could he say such things? After he just blew her off, and now he was asking to travel with her? How could anyone be so spontaneous? No matter how long she had known him, Meryl felt unable to ever decipher Vash's intentions. One minute it was one thing and the next minute it was something different! …and they say women are hard to comprehend…

"We could go togeth-"

"Maw- Meryl?"

They turned to see Clint standing in the room, his freshly washed hair still dripping with excess water.

Meryl jumped. She could see the teenager perfectly over Vash's left shoulder and the resemblance was stunning. 'Isn't that just like Vash?' Meryl thought- to have a son, and not even tell her? He was right when he said he was a waste of her time. Now he has to worry about a teenager. 'Well, he deserves it!' She thought bitterly.

Although aggravated thoughts crossed through her mind, she didn't express them.

"You have a kid?" She asked simply.

"Oh, no, no!" They both said.

"Clint didn't have a place to stay, so he's here for now."

"Oh…" 'Like I'm going to believe that garbage. He's full of it! They're nearly identical!'

Then just as spontaneous as Vash, Clint gasped. "You're married!" He suddenly appeared at her side with her hand in his. He stared at the diamond, and then whirled around to Vash, mouth agape.

"Don't look at me!" Vash said, bewildered.

"To who!" Clint demanded.

Meryl took her hand away. Now it was beginning to make sense. They had it planned…'but Vash never felt that way about me… He doesn't want to take care of Clint. That Broomhead!'

"Engaged," Meryl corrected, bitterly. She pulled her hand away from Clint's.

The comment was sinking in. A sudden hole occupied Vash's stomach as he recalled all of Meryl's actions he had been too excited to notice. Her insecurities and vague answers, she felt uncomfortable with him.

"That's wonderful," Vash said kindly. "He must be a great guy."

Meryl looked up at Vash, and if she was the Meryl she used to be, she would have noticed the sadness in the voice.

"When is it? I sure hope I'm invited."

Meryl, feeling confused, stumbled out the words. "Five months from yesterday…", and then she hesitated, she hadn't planned to invite Vash, and now she was caught between two forces. She could just see the chaos: refreshments scattered on the floor, punch on her aunt's new dress, her bouquet in ruins, and Vash still trying to pursue her cousin with a big red mark across his face while her husband stared at her with those unsure, but entertained eyes. She hadn't told him anything about Vash…at least not much…

"Yes, of course you're invited," Meryl said, her conscience suffocating behind her eyes.

"Great! Where is it?"

"It's at the church in Taylor Valley…"

"What's his name?"

"Charles Glenning."

"Charles and Meryl Glenning. It has a nice sound." He pointed out.

"Charles Glenning?" Clint repeated. He looked out of place with his slack expression. Confusion covered his eyes.

"I'll be there," Vash promised. "I'm sure I'll hear all about him when we- well, if you want to go to December together."

'Why is he torturing me?' Meryl wondered. Of course she could say "no", but when he was so excited? Her conscience slithered again. This outlaw had had a terrible life and found peace with in the simplest moments. Was she cruel to deny him?

"Yes, we'll do that."

"Really? It will be wonderful! I can see Millie too!"

Meryl nodded numbly, wondering _what_ she was getting herself into.

"Vash, did you see the kitchen?" Knives had just entered the room with a smug smirk on his face. He eyed Meryl.

"You did the dishes?" Vash asked with surprise.

Meryl stared at Vash's brother, a sick feeling growing in her. He was the son of the devil, Meryl decided. He was the one who had made every waking moment of Vash's demented life torture. A part of her wondered how he had the nerve to bring up his act of service to the honorable gunman. The fact he was standing in the same room as both of them felt unrealistic- like he had been resurrected from the dead.

His eyes found Meryl's and he stared at her with a placid expression.

Meryl didn't dare look away afraid of coming across as inferior.

"When I told you to get another insurance girl, I was only joking." Knives spoke, still staring at Meryl.

"You're joking so much, more than half the time I can't believe you," Vash spoke, watching his brother carefully.

"I'm impressed. She's a lot prettier than the last two insurance girls."

Meryl didn't take it as a compliment, on the contrary, she felt suddenly diseased.

"And that one was really bossy." Knives remarked.

A sweat-drop appeared on Vash. "Knives, this _is_ Meryl Stryfe." He explained.

"Oh…" he spoke with new understanding. After glancing at Clint he turned to Vash skeptically. "I thought you didn't want her around."

"Of course I want her around. She's my friend."

"Oh yes, she's the one you were talking about last night. If you hadn't been the one to send her away, I'd have thought you liked her."

Meryl waited for Vash's answer even though a part of her already knew he hadn't felt that way about her…but that moment never came…

"Is she here to learn how to shoot too?" Knives asked critically.

"Actually, she's on her way to December on business," Vash shared.

"That's ironic," Knives stated, "that just happens to be where we're going." He stared at Vash placidly as if trying to force some kind of confession from him.

"Meryl's just been engaged," Vash shared.

"Congratulations," he told Meryl icily. "It's satisfying to see that at least someone has begun to let go of the past."

The comment hung uncomfortably in the air. Clint shifted awkwardly. Meryl sensed tension building up as she tried to decipher the haunting man before her. Apparently many of Vash and Knives' subtle differences had not been compromised. And she began to wonder how her traveling would be among all these males.


	3. Dashen Bandera

"Wait, why are you buying _three_ sandsteamer passes?" Knives asked his brother as Vash took 3 little leather pouches that contained their tickets. "I thought the Insurance Girl was buying her own."

"She did, this is for Clint."

"What! It's bad enough that witch is coming, but you're bringing that punk too? Honestly, Vash, I shouldn't let you keep either of them; it's disgusting!"

"What you say is disgusting; they're not stray animals. I'm not done teaching Clint, and he has no where else to go."

"No where _but_ home!" Knives growled. "If you weren't such a mama's boy I swear-"

"-He would be mine, yes, I know; you've told me a dozen times, and we both know he's not mine." Vash finished annoyed. "Let's go; we only have a few hours to get ready."

….

Clint jumped on his back onto the bed. "Oh wow, this is going to be awesome! I've never been on a sandsteamer before."

"It's no big deal; actually, I hate it; it is completely exasperating." Knives threw his luggage carelessly on the ground in spite of his temper; after all who wouldn't be angry if your brother was tending to the _Insurance Girl_ and left _you_ with this little punk who is disturbing enough to practically glue those Enix-branded jet black sunglasses to his head. Were they supposed to be a causal halo or- did he even have eyes? Knives hadn't seen them once, yet he must if he can see to aim. Maybe he had two different colors of eyes or a blood vessel broke in them. Knives eyed them.

"You know you are really really negative," Clint pointed out.

"That's invigorating."

"Why don't you like sandsteamers?"

"Ha!" Knives sat on the edge of the dresser.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"There's a lot you can't understand about me, whether you intend to or not."

Clint kept his mouth shut.

….

"It's not too bad is it?" Vash asked Meryl as he opened the door to her room.

"No…"Meryl answered awkwardly.

"Just think, we'll be seeing Millie soon."

"Yes…"Meryl stared in the room, but yet at nothing. She wished Vash would stop living in the past; he has _always_ lived in the past, completely opposite of her. The present and future were always in her sight, just like Charles'. Charles didn't keep her waiting. Charles didn't hold to a dead woman either…not really.

Vash looked down at her delicate hand, continuing until he reached the dazzling and glistening diamond ring. It was pretty big with several more diamonds placed around it, and marked with white gold.

"You're ring is beautiful."

"Oh, thanks."

"Just like you." The words flowed so smoothly that Vash couldn't have stopped them, but once they were out he would have given anything to have prevented them. "I mean, don't get me wrong!" He clumsily added. "Because, I mean, you're spoken for…"

'What was he playing at? How could I have ever thought I understood this man?' Meryl thought.

Vash cleared his throat. "So…how-? How did he purpose?"

Meryl stared at him feeling completely lost in his maze of actions. "Well…" She started. "He gave it to me on my birthday," she then smiled remembering the event, and it ruptured Vash's soul, but he ignored it. "He made me a cake all by himself, and that's really pushing it for him. I had told him I didn't like icing, but he must have forgotten because he put it in the icing, and I threw it away."

Vash would have commented, but he was finding it hard to speak.

Meryl let out a small laugh. "It took him an hour to dig through the trash, but he found it, and then asked me." She paused, and Vash found his voice.

"Well, I need to make sure Clint is settled." He said abruptly.

"Yes…Clint…" Meryl said as he left suddenly. Then feeling oddly frustrated, she brushed her teeth so fiercely that the white foaming toothpaste was splattered all over the mirror and dripped from her chin. _And_ when she was done, she didn't even bother to wipe it off the mirror.

Disappointed with himself, Vash began to walk slowly to his room.

He was happy for her, but then why did he leave so suddenly?

"You idiot, Vash," he said out loud. Then feeling it didn't quite do the job, he began to hit his forehead with his hand crying "stupid, stupid, stupid!"

In an instant he moved the moment he smelled gunpowder.

The bullet flew passed him, and Vash lowered his hand to look at the culprit.

'That is one big sombrero,' He thought as he studied the man.

"So the rumors are true, The Humanoid Typhoon is on the sandsteamer." The hairy sombreroed man's rusty voice took its time to let each syllable roll off his tongue.

"Who are you?" Vash asked as the man neared him.

"Your new partner…"

"What?" Vash squeaked.

"You and I are breaking out with the goods." He put his arm around Vash.

Vash jumped away. "I like to keep my distance from men," he explained.

"You're funny."

"Ah, no, I'm serious," Vash said. "Who are you?"

"Dashen."

"Dashen Bandera?" Vash stepped back. This man was a villain, one of the top ten most wanted. He was superb with bombs, and had a tendency of choosing riches over women.

He smirked. "Can you see the headline?"

"Headline?"

"'Vash and Dash' unpredictable pair makes way with Ralph Woods' fortune in their hands'"

"Ralph Woods?" The name sounded vaguely familiar… "Isn't he a famous car salesman or something?"

"No you idiot!" Dashen kicked Vash in the shin. "He's the richest man on Gunsmoke!"

"Ow!" Vash rubbed his leg.

"If you help me, I'll split it with you, 30-70."

"You're stealing his money?" Vash asked.

Dashen nodded.

Vash frowned. "What about his family?"

"He's divorced."

"What about his kids?"

"They're all out of the nest." He shrugged.

"I'm not taking his money!"

"40-60."

"And I think you better change your mind."

"50-50?"

"0-0."

"Don't you understand? We could be invincible together; unstoppable."

"I won't, and I advise you the same."

"I might want to warn you, keeping me from him is lethal. There are more dangerous greetings than this on board." Dashen smirked, and carefully opened his shiny black suit case.

….

"Why didn't you go home?" Knives asked Clint.

"I wanted to come with you and Vash."

"Won't your family be worried?"

"…No… I hope not. Maybe my mom will be." Clint answered.

"It's night," Knives observed.

"Yeah."

"Taking off those sunglasses?"

For a split second Knives thought Clint was going to, but instead he just pushed them on more.

"No."

"But they're just sunglasses, right?"

"I suppose."

"Except that your dad gave them to you."

"Yes."

"Do you sleep with them on?" Knives asked.

"Sometimes…"

"Peculiar."

Silence.

"I think Vash got lost, I'm going to look for him." Knives stood up. "Stay here; out of trouble…on second thought, you're coming with me." Knives forced him up by his arm.

"But Vash is with Meryl."

"He's been with her too long."

"Maybe they want to be alone."

"You make anything but sense. That's sick."

"I think we should stay here." Clint said.

But Knives was already pulling the teen out the door.

They peered down the halls.

"Do you know where Meryl's room is?" Clint asked.

"Can it," Knives ordered pulling Clint down the hall.

….

Meryl jumped when someone began banging on her door.

"Meryl, Meryl! I need your help!"

Her heart pumped faster; it was Vash.

She opened the door to see his face covered in black, like he had had his skin singed by fire.

She stepped back in surprise. "What-?"

"You got to get all the passengers off the sandsteamer! I think it's blowing up!" Vash cried.

Meryl stared at him, speechless with fright.

"I think there's a bomb on it. Please Meryl! Please!" Vash begged when the violet haired girl refused to move. "I need your help!"

He eyed her business suit. She used to keep derringers in her old cape. "You have a gun, right?"

She nodded numbly.

"Get the passengers all out; I'm going to try to stop Dashen Bandera." He explained.

Meryl watched him run up the hall.

"Hurry!" He called back.

Shaking, Meryl quickly forced her shoes on.

….

Vash ran as fast as he could, the problem was that he didn't know where the control panels were or where Ralph Woods was. 'Probably in first class somewhere,' Vash thought, 'and I lost track of Bandera when he put out all that smoke.'

Vash caught sight of an engineer.

"Where is first class?" He asked.

"Clear on the other side; towards the front of the sandsteamer. That way," he pointed.

"Thanks!" Vash ran again.

….

Meryl had hardly any time to pull herself together before leaving out of her room.

She started in the opposite direction of Vash.

"Where's Millie when I need her?" Meryl found herself saying as she knocked on the door next to hers. "Excuse me, is anyone in there?" She asked.

Silence replied.

'Come on, Meryl, everyone's going to die if you don't do something. It's no time to be polite,' she thought before banging hard on the door. "Open the door!" She yelled.

No one heeded her orders.

'Now what?' She sighed. 'Meryl, are you a disaster preventioner or not?'

"Stay away from the door!" She called, and stepped back, pulled out her gun, and shot at the door until there was a hole big enough to slip her hand through and unlock it.

She scanned the room until she saw a child under the covers.

"Are you here alone?" Meryl asked.

The boy nodded. "My mommy went to get us dinner, don't kidnap me."

"I'm not kidnapping you, but you've got to come with me." That's an oxymoron, Meryl thought.

"Why?"

"We need to get off the sandsteamer- everyone does. Come on," Meryl picked him up. "I'm nice, I promise."

She left the room, and rushed to the door of the next, yelling until an older man opened it.

"What is it Miss?"

"I need your help," Meryl breathed. "The sandsteamer, there might be a bomb on it. Please help me get everyone off. Dashen Bandera is on it."

….

"Are we lost?" Clint asked.

"No, he's this way," Knives pulled Clint. "What is he doing?" He growled out loud.

….

"I need to see Ralph Woods!" Vash said urgently to a guard of the first class. "Someone is after him!"

"Are you in first class?" He asked.

"No, but-"

"Then I can't help you."

"But people might die! Please!"

"Only first class members are allowed in this area." The man looked passed Vash, nodded, and stepped out of the way as the sombreroed man showed him his ticket. "Go ahead sir..."

Thinking quickly, Vash tackled him to the ground.

The guard immediately reacted the way Vash had been hoping.

"What are you doing?" He yelled at Vash as he rolled with Dashen on the ground, avoiding blows, and purposely missing his target.

"Get off me!" Dashen growled.

"Stop it!" The guard shot off his gun, and they froze. "You're coming with me!" He pointed at Vash. "Come on."

Vash stood up, and left Dashen on the ground.

"Hurry, let's go!" The guard growled, pointing the gun to Vash's back, and escorting him away from first class, towards the Captain's room.

"Captain, we have a trouble maker on our hands." The guard pushed Vash in front of a stern looking man. "He tried to break in to first class, and then he got in a fight with a passenger."

"Please, Captain, Dashen Bandera is on board. Please have your men search for a bomb."

"A bomb?" The captain repeated.

"It wouldn't do any harm to search," Vash pointed out.

The captain went quiet.

"For the safety of the passengers."

"Thank you for this information, you can leave now." The captain replied.

"We're letting him go?" The guard repeated.

"Yes and what can a search hurt?"

"Yes sir." The guard looked over at Vash. "You heard the him. Leave."

Vash took the order gratefully, and continued to dash through the sandsteamer, back to the first class area, and ran straight into Bandera…literally.

It was as if the moment they hit, time slowed and they both fell back to the ground with an "umph."

Bandera came to his sense first, and he yelled at Vash. "Where is he? What did you do with him?"

Vash stared at him, processing with words. Ralph Woods wasn't there? He couldn't think of any reasons as to why Woods would have left. First class had its own dinning, so there was no point in him leaving, unless he wasn't here in the first place, and this was all a misunderstanding.

"He's here! He must be!" Dashen cried. "Why isn't he in first class? I'll blow it all up if you don't tell me where he is!"

"For being a bomb-guru, you're sure lacking the virtue of patience, and I'm afraid I can't let you harm innocent people."

"I'll find him!" Bandera growled, and then placed some type of goggles over his eyes. He threw something to the ground, and immediately smoke issued from the oval object like a volcano. It surrounded Vash in smoke within several seconds.

Coughing, he brought his eyes through the smoke. It was so thick he couldn't even see his own arm.

He tried his best to concentrate, but before he could target his opponent, a dagger dug into him, ripping his flesh.

Vash stepped back, thrashing through the black air for Dashen, but he was either too far away, or gone.

….

"What happened here?" Clint asked, still being pulled by Knives.

Smoke was drifting their direction, and Knives could sense that Vash was in the middle of it.

"Is he over here?" Clint asked.

"You talk too much," Knives growled as he led the young man through the smoke that was beginning to clear.

A hunching figure was a small distance away.

"That's him," Knives shared.

"Vash?" Clint asked.

Knives nodded.

Forgetting Knives had a grip on him, Clint tried to run top speed, but fell to the floor at Knives' tug.

"Would you let go? Please?"

Knives laughed coldly, and then…let him go.

"Vash!" Clint charged until he reached the blonde-locked man. "What happened? You're bleeding!" Clint spoke, once he realized the darkening crimson.

"Clint." Vash had nearly forgotten the teen.

"Another witch in distress?" Knives asked his brother.

Vash shook hi head. "Much worse. Bombs. We've got to find Bandera, he might be putting a bomb to stop the sandsteamer if he doesn't get Ralph Woods' money."

"What do we do?" Clint asked.

"That's simple."

They both looked at Knives, who was filling his gun with ammunition.

"We give him Woods." He put the last bullet in. "Do you know where he is?"

"We can't do that!" Vash and Clint cried.

"Have the sandsteamer blow up, or have Woods robbed and possibly murdered?"

"How about plan C?" Clint suggested.

"Save everyone," Vash said.

Knives rolled his eyes. "You make it sound easy."

"It's not, but the easier things are doesn't make them any more right," Vash explained. "We're losing time."

"What do we do?" Clint asked again.

"If we get separated…" Vash pulled out a tiny machine that resembled a pen. "This can help a lot. We need to either find Woods, Bandera, or the bomb."

"We're searching blindly?" Knives asked.

"Unfortunately, I have nothing to go on, and no map."

"Chances are slim," Knives said.

"But there are still chances," Vash answered. "And he's just as blind as us at finding Woods."

They started rushing through rooms, even Vash, who was half limping. He was breathing harder and harder, but anyone who knows Vash, knows if there's any strength in his body, he _wil_l go on.

Knives didn't enjoy watching Vash's reckless blind actions. He was searching urgently, and Knives felt that any moment they would be trapped, and his brother may suffer a loss.

Unfortunately, traps were true, and the blondes encountered their first as they entered a small room.

Boom!

A small explosion erupted just as Vash reached for the next door. The heat gave way to his feet, and he fell back to the ground.

Knives forcefully dragged Vash to his feet.

"Too Reckless!" He scolded.

Vash's skin radiated heat.

"Don't let urgency clash your wisdom. Stay on top of things!" Knives grabbed the neck of the singed coat. "Or you'll kill us all."

"Don't Knives!" Clint ordered, pushing his arm away from Vash. "It's bad enough already, you don't need to rub it in his face!"

"It's that emotion that allows accidents, accidents that are too severe."

"It's that emotion that also saves lives!" Clint argued.

Clint was afraid things would only get worse, so he was thankful Vash interrupted.

"Clint, Knives is right. I am becoming too reckless."

Clint opened his mouth to argue.

"And we're wasting time again." Vash pointed out.

"Yes," he agreed.

Vash opened the next door cautiously, and scanned the room.

"Bingo!" Knives aimed his gun at a small blinking box in the corner. He pulled the trigger, and another small boom sounded the area; bits of debris fell to the floor.

"Isn't that reckless?" Clint asked. "What if that was the huge explosive?"

"You _are_ naive," Knives smirked. "Trust me, I would know."

Vash let Knives open the next door; unlike himself, Knives was more experienced and educated with such things.

"I think we're getting closer." Knives peered into the other room, aimed, and shot.

"Is shooting all we can do?" Vash asked, trying not to sound what Knives would call "preachy". He wasn't fond of the damage it did or could do.

"No, but it's the fastest, and you're in a hurry, aren't you?" Knives asked with a tone.

The next room had yet another door that Knives peered out.

Thread. All over the ground like a spider web.

"Vash, if you're the butterfly, who's going to save you?" Knives asked as he opened the door for them to look down the dark hall of webs.

"Thread?" Clint asked.

"If you're clumsy; it's suicide," Knives explained. "So you better watch you're step, Vash," he added

"Wait. We're walking this way?" Clint asked.

"Well, it's obvious who went this way."

"But I don't see any bombs."

"It's hard to see the thread as well," Knives answered.

Clint stared at the maze, feeling very nervous; he hadn't ever had to do something so intense. It wasn't very welcoming, especially in the dim light.

Vash started across the passage, squinting in the dark at the ground.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Knives snarled. "Take those off your face!"

"My sunglasses?"

"Oh I hate huma-"

"Knives!" Vash warned.

"-Kids."

It bothered Clint to be called a child, but he ignored it.

"Listen, if you don't take those off, I'll do it for you!" Knives made a grab for the tinted glasses.

"No." Clint stepped back.

"You'll get us killed!" Knives yelled in anger.

Clint was at a loss of words.

"It's hard to live in lies and half-truths, isn't it?" Knives asked.

"Come on," Vash said.

Clint scanned the dim hall. Noticing a vent, he asked, "what about going through there?" He pointed to it.

"You are kidding, right?" Knives asked.

"Trust me, we can fit, and it will make things a lot easier." Vash said happily, changing his direction to towards the vent.

Clint headed carefully towards it too.

"It's too high," Clint spoke.

Vash looked to Knives' annoyed expression, and sighing inside himself, worked to reaching Clint.

Once he reached him, he glanced for two well-sized spots to place his feet without stepping on the gentle thread. Planting then in the ground he squatted.

"I'll get you high enough watch your feet and don't slip or you'll be as crispy as me." Vash advised, he too wishing Clint would remove his sunglasses.

With a stinging sensation, Vash felt Clint climbed on Vash. His wounds and burns screamed at him.

Clint broke the vent open, and stretched himself higher to look in.

It was completely black.

Clint pushed up his sunglasses to get a better view.

His heart jumped, it wasn't completely black. Red lights were flickering down the tunnel, and he could hardly make out the boxes.

He swallowed.

"I found the bombs."

Disappointment rushed to Vash, it was all a waste of time.

Clint climbed off. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Vash said, dizzily walking over webs.

Thankfully they made it to the next door, and even Clint failed to step on one thread.

The next room was very small, and there was a staircase that was apparently used for the engineers.

Carefully rushing down the stairs they went through two more doors, and Vash being well ahead, went straight through the next (after scanning it). He was only several steps away before he heard the door close behind him.

"Still after me?" Bandera asked. "I was hoping you would have given up by now. I didn't want to kill such a legendary clever gunman, but it seems you stand in the way." He tilted his huge sombrero to Vash. "Legendary, yes, but you've never been up against anyone remotely close to me." Bandera smirked. "As so, you've done pretty well for yourself."


	4. 99 percent

"Why did the door shut? Clint asked, reaching for it.

Knives pushed him away. "Idiot." Knives pointed to a thread around the hinges. "If you open it again, it'll go off, and I don't know what type of bomb or how many are connected to it. He's separated us."

Clint pulled out the small machine Vash had lent him that resembled pen.

"Vash, we're bombarded out, is there another way to get in?"

….

"There are plenty of doors around us. Did you put the bomb through one of them?" Vash asked.

"You're getting warmer," Dashen pulled out a small ball, and placed goggles over his eyes.

He threw the ball to the ground, and immediately thick, dark smoke rose from it.

Vash whipped out his gun as quick as he could, and fired at Bandera.

Piercing, the bullet went into his arm, but it wasn't enough to stop him.

Vash went right for him, and knocked him to the ground.

Bandera rolled over, got to his feet, and disappeared in the smoke, leaving specks of blood behind.

Backing up into a wall, Vash's eyes watered from the smoke. He closed them, concentrating hard.

Once the wheezing died of the smoke-bomb, he listened.

He could hear Bandera, but he also heard something else, like wheels on the ground. It was getting louder.

Vash opened his eyes for a split second, and saw a small dark object heading straight for him.

"I trust you'll enjoy my robotic bombs, after all, it's an honor for you to actually be a victim of one." Bandera's voice triumphed. "They move directly to their target, and when they reach them… BOOM!"

Once the packed explosive was several hand lengths away, Vash jumped over it. It stopped for a moment, and turned towards Vash before continuing.

He blinked away the water out of his eyes.

He whirled around, screwing up his eyes to find Bandera's figure in the smoke. He closed them again, listening. He heard them both, the robotic bomb, and Bandera.

He jumped over the bomb again, and dashed for the outline of Bandera. He charged with his gun out and ready, once he was close enough he'd attempt to shoot him again.

Bandera jumped back into the smoke. He liked this game. Vash was like a cornered mouse in the smoke.

He couldn't just fire whenever he felt like it, because there were explosive behind doors, and in the smoke he had no idea where he was going. There had to be an advantage Vash had that he didn't.

Listening…another one? …two robotic bombs. 'If I get them coming after me from different directions while I'm in the center of the room… but where _is_ the center of the room? It's too dangerous to guess. What do I do?'

Vash jumped over one of the robotic bombs, and once he felt he was at a far enough distance away from the wall, he shot it.

He studied the explosion. Big, but really not that big… bigger then the other bombs he had encountered earlier.

"You're doing well."

Vash turned to the voice.

"How many can you hold up against? 3? 4?"

Vash close his eyes. Sure enough, more robotic bombs wheeled across the floor.

He dashed to a wall, back to the last, to the north wall, down to the south. The least he could do was estimate the center of the room.

They were coming towards him; 3 in one direction, and one head on… Closer and closer.

He jumped over the one, and as it processed his movement the other 3 continued straight.

He ran into the man-shaped figure.

Vash shot for Dashen's other arm, but he ducked, and attempted to trip Vash in the process.

Vash jumped.

Grabbing Vash's feet, and pulling him to the ground, Bandera jumped on top of him.

He punched Vash in his wound. They rolled over each other in a vicious mass, closer to the robotic bombs.

Bandera stabbed Vash again.

…rolling closer and closer…

Vash kicked Bandera in the stomach; forcing him off and away from himself.

'Get away! Get away! Get away!' Urgently, he scrambled.

BOOM!

Vash rolled over himself from the impact of the explosion, and slide across the ground.

Breathing very hard, he tried to sit up, but fell down in spite of his injuries.

….

"Vash! Vash!"

It was Clint.

Clint started to cough a little.

Knives grabbed Vash under the arms, and slide him through a door. Clint shut it behind them.

"Vash, are you okay?" Clint asked desperately.

Vash forced himself to sit.

To Clint's surprise, Knives pointed his black gun to Vash.

"What are you-!" Clint said.

"Take off your coat," Knives ordered, pointing the gun at Clint.

Vash struggled to accomplish this, and didn't get very far in his condition.

"Help him," Knives ordered.

Speechless, and afraid, Clint very carefully began to remove the red coat.

"Just relax," Knives told Vash soothingly while still holding the gun at Clint. "Deep breaths. Let the kid do the work, because you're going to need your strength."

Clint handed Knives the red coat, and he began to slip it on.

"You really think he'll think you're Vash?" Clint asked.

"At first glance… Listen kid, the bomb's on the brake." Knives pointed to the opposite wall.

"Can you defuse it?" Vash grunted.

"I need a lot of time, it's huge. You two need to tell the captain not to touch the brake." Knives told them. "NOW!"

Clint helped Vash up.

Knives rubbed his hand along a pipe, and quickly wiped the black grease in his brother's hair.

"Now hurry."

He turned to the brake once they were gone. Studying it, he muttered, "now I understand your works…"

….

Meanwhile, Meryl was racing through the sandsteamer back in her old rhythm of such circumstances. She would act crisp, yet sincere; it was important to keep everyone on their feet. More people had agreed to branch out and help her recruit everyone, while a few others refused to believe a female passenger.

"Excuse me, Sir!" She went after an old man that she spotted walking briskly. "Excuse me!"

The man stopped, and immediately showed sympathy to Meryl's expression.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Dashen Bandera, he's here, I think there is a bomb on here." She explained. "We need-"

"Dashen Bandera?" The old man repeated in dismay. "He's here for me no doubt."

"What?" Meryl asked in confusion.

"Ralph Woods," he introduced himself. "He has been after me for months now."

Meryl didn't have much time to let it sink in. "We'll get you out of here," Meryl said, but hoped she wouldn't be proven a liar by the end of the day.

….

"Take it easy, you'll bleed to death," Clint told Vash as he left his trail of blood behind.

"No I won't."

"It looks like it. It must really hurt."

Vash smiled. "Trust me, I've had worse, and let's hope I can always say that when I'm giving us away with my trail."

"It's sick…sorry, but it _is_ nasty," Clint said, looking away.

"We're slowing down." Vash noted the sandsteamer's movement. "Why are we slowing down?" He asked bewildered. "Oh, no."

He started running.

Clint couldn't stand it. He was going to kill himself.

"I'll run on ahead," he suggested. "Be careful."

Madly, he began to dash.

….

"Once we stop, we'll all be able to get off," Meryl said, adrenaline still in her. "But it will take a few minutes. We need to round up anyone else in the mean time."

The passengers were dead silent. Everyone was listening to her now.

….

Knives growled in rage. "No! The brake! Idiots! Filthy Humans! Errr!"

He glared at the pack of explosives that had the numbers 19:55 glowing in red.

"Fine!" He yelled and stood up, stopping for a moment to sense his brother, and charged out of the small room.

….

"The bomb's on the brake!" Clint cried, bursting through the door of the control panels. "Don't use the brake!" He told the captain.

And to Clint's surprise, they didn't question.

….

Knives whirled around just as a big sombreroed man jumped him.

"Get off me! Disgusting-" Knives kicked, and went straight for Dashen's wounded arm. "Tricked you, didn't I?" He smiled.

Bandera continued at him with his dagger, hardly caring if there was a difference in the man in the red coat. He had no idea just how different he was. Knives wasn't anything like Vash. Vash didn't kill a crew one by one. Vash didn't deserve a threatening bounty. Vash wasn't so prideful that he deserved to be plated with bloody spikes. Vash wasn't covered in selfishness, strangling him like a scaffold.

Knives pulled out his gun in a slender action.

_Vash wasn't alone as a bullet-less gun_.

His arm arched gracefully, so each joint curved with silent viciousness.

_Vash didn't isolate himself._

His arm, like a broken grave stone, straightened, clutching the gun.

_Vash wasn't a cold-blooded killer._

He was aiming at the villain's head.

_Vash didn't murder on instinct._

His finger moved back.

_Vash didn't ask for the blood on his hands._

The man's limp body fell to the ground.

_Vash doesn't murder on instinct_.

The red sombrero rolled off.

But this wasn't Vash…

….

Vash slowed down, surely Clint had reached them by now…but what if they didn't believe a 14 year old? Then again, the sandsteamer hadn't slowed anymore.

"Vash!"

He knew it was Knives before he even turned around.

His brother was out of breath.

They made eye-contact and Vash was surprised to see Knives look away, but thought nothing of it.

"The bomb is counting down. We must have 17 minutes- not enough time to stop it." He breathed. "I've got to tell them not to push the brake anymore, it will decrease the time we have left."

Clint reached them.

"I told them," he said.

"It's already going," Vash said.

"What!" He cried in distress. "What about everyone?"

"Find the insurance girl. Tell her to get them off now. We can't slow it anymore." Knives ordered.

Taking two more breaths, Clint nodded and went to find Meryl Stryfe.

"Here," Knives said once Clint was out of sight.

Knives placed his bloodshed hand on Vash's collar bone. "You'll slow me down."

Vash felt his energy rise somewhat; a trick with plants.

Knives lifted his hand. "Let's go. We'll tell the crew."

….

After swimming through a crowd of people, Clint reached the violet-head.

"Muh- Meryl," Clint tugged at her.

Meryl looked into the teen's worried face.

"Clint?"

"Meryl, we got to get everyone off _now_."

"The captain was going to stop the sandsteamer but-"

"_Now!_ The bomb is on the brake, and we have less than 17 minutes."

The color drained out of Meryl's face.

Fear pricked up her back.

The old Meryl could stand in front of guns, stand up for others, and even willingly put her life on the line. Yes, it was scary, but there are things worth dying for.

But now she was scared, like a child hidden under the covers. She was shaking. She couldn't do this. She glanced over the crowd of people. How was she, an unimportant insurance girl, supposed to get all these people off a moving sandsteamer?

Clint was disappointed with her lack of action. "We're wasting time."

"Yes." Her voice sounded hollow.

"What about the ship defense? Isn't there any automobiles!"

"There is!" A man from the crowd cried. "I found them when we were rounding up passengers."

"Yes, don't panic, we need to work together." Meryl agreed.

….

Back in the room full of control panels, Vash was trying desperately explain the situation.

"The bomb is counting down," he explained. "If you pull the brake anymore, it will speed it up the little time we have. Captain, you have to get off of this sandsteamer."

The Captain hesitated.

"There's no time!"

"I will, but I need to finish a few things to help the passengers."

"Vash," Knives addressed. "Let's go."

Vash paused, and then nodded, adding "Please hurry."

They hustled through the sandsetamer.

"Wait…we have to make sure everyone is out," Vash insisted.

"Meryl has all of them. I ran into her before I met up with you." Knives lied.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. We would be wasting our time looking for someone who isn't there. Hurry!"

Vash struggled to keep up with him as they curved through halls. How much longer did they have?

After what felt like an eternity, they found the group of passengers.

"Oh, thank goodness you guys made it, I was getting worried." Clint greeted them. He scanned over Vash. "Then again, I still am."

"How are things? Where's Meryl?" Vash asked desperately.

"We're using the defense automobiles; slipping them off one by one. Meryl's helping passengers get on." Clint answered.

"Is there anything I can do?" Vash asked.

Meryl looked up as another car skimmed down the ramp. Her eyes widened. Vash. Oh, he was a mess. She could hardly stand to look at him. It hurt, and it had been years since she had seen anyone such a mess. The poor guy… even when she didn't feel attracted to him, she couldn't stand it. And how could Knives- that disgusting criminal- be wearing _his_ red coat.

"Vash," She called to him. "Nearly everyone is out; we'll go with the last of them."

Vash looked at Meryl. She was still beautiful even in a time like this.

"Hurry," she called.

Knives, Clint, and Vash rushed to her, and helped the remaining passengers (including the captain) into the automobile.

Meryl glanced around for a moment. "Get in. I'll be there in just a moment."

Vash opened his mouth, but she stopped him. "Hurry, I'll be quick."

He shut his mouth, and followed the other blondes inside.

A little girl was crying across from him.

"Don't worry," Vash comforted. "We'll be okay."

These words didn't comfort the girl much at all, considering how awful the man looked that said them.

Meryl reappeared in the doorway and right away Vash felt his stomach drop. He could hear more crying from outside.

"There are more people; I'll go in another car with them." Meryl insisted.

Vash's heart was pumping.

When Vash was young, he remembered Rem telling him it was important for him to know their history; it will repeat itself. And at this moment, Vash knew her next word, her next phrase like he knew the back on his hand. He couldn't stand the words, they had cut into his soul for years and years, and they would again.

"Vash take care of them-"

"No!" He cried desperately. His eyes were hot, and prickled just before water began to seep into them.

Meryl was caught off guard. She stared into his aqua eyes.

"Bring them in here!"

"There's no room," Meryl pointed out.

Tears sprawled out. "Please!" He begged.

She wasn't going to.

"Please! Meryl, please!"

She stared at him.

Vash wouldn't let her go, she couldn't. He could hardly stand it. "I don't want to loose you again!"

Meryl ripped her eyes away from Vash to face those outside. "We're going with them." Meryl called. "No time to argue."

No one talked on the bumpy ride down the ramp onto the dirt, and Vash felt drained as his tears slowed.

He didn't fully understand it, but he knew if he had let Meryl leave she would have been lost; just like Rem. Just like any women he would fall in love with was doomed to die. The only way of escaping it would be to never love; to isolate himself from the world.

"Vash?" Clint broke the silence.

He was still wearing those black sunglasses.

"Are you okay?" His voice was tender, and gentle with concern.

That's when Vash realized how stupid he must have come across; he'd sure be hearing it from Knives. He shouldn't care though.

He wiped the tear off his hand. He wanted to smile; to cry out "we're alive! Let's celebrate!" but he couldn't say anything. He was too tired, too drained, and too confused.

The car bumped along the road, following the lead of the others.

Meryl snuck a glance at him. She wondered so much about him, she always had.

The car slowed down to a stop where all the other automobiles were, and people were getting out. All eyes on the sandsteamer as it continued through the dirt.

Clint helped Vash out. "Someone will need to patch you up," he noted. "Will Knives-"

"Meryl will probably do it, at least she used to."

Out of the corner of his eye, Vash watched a woman walk to Meryl. "Is this all? She asked desperately.

Meryl looked at the woman.

"No one else is coming?"

Vash's eyes began to scan the people violently.

There was so sombrero.

Meryl was speechless.

"We're missing people!" The lady cried. "Family members! There are loved ones still on that!"

"I didn't-" Meryl stammered.

"I'll get them," Vash spoke up.

Several people whirled around to him.

"Vash, it'll go any second." Clint argued.

"Please! My wife is still on there!" A young man cried. "I thought she was with me, but we must have split ways."

Vash turned to leave, and then it sounded.

The boom echoed through the grounds like thunder. The ground vibrated as the side of the sandsteamer exploded. Debris shattered from it, and several seconds later there was another boom, and another side went out. Orange and black reached out to the sky shaped with curves and bumps like popcorn.

Without warning, Vash's knees buckled.

If you could look into the weary gunman's mint green eyes, you would see it reflected like a portrait with mingled emotion; emotions such as fear, grief, anger, and disappointment.


	5. Inside Out

"You lied to me!" Vash's fist hit the dry dirt, and in return it crumbled. "When I needed you the most, you lied to me!" Vash shouted, and then he looked up at his brother.

Despite his anger, his eyes were beginning to water again.

Knives stared at Vash, showing no sign of even hearing his cry.

"People are dead!" He yelled. "And, and you," he stammered, studying Knives. "You killed him didn't you?" You killed Bandera!"

"He was in the way, and he would have killed me."

"When?" Vash asked.

"Before I told Clint to find Meryl." He answered, emotionless. "Before I found you… I shot him, through the head. He jumped me."

"He had a dagger, and you had a gun. There was no smoke, no bombs; who do you think had the upper hand?" Vash asked.

He didn't answer.

"He wouldn't have killed you. You shot him because you were afraid of getting hurt!" Vash stood up.

"I wasn't afraid." He answered simply.

"You hate pain, can't tolerate it, so you killed him. You were selfish!"

"Don't tell me what I am! I know far better than you do." Knives raged.

"It's not right…"

Knives' hand wrenched Vash's neck, and pulled him closer. His bloodshed hand was warm. They could each feel one another's pulse, breathe, and sensed the collision of their diverse emotions. Vash stared into Knives' blue hateful eyes; they were growing a colder grey again… just slightly. Knives' glared into Vash's delicate aqua eyes; shiny, hurtful…he couldn't stand them.

The uproar had caught a lot of eyes. When Knives pressed his gun to his brother's head, those watching cringed and held their breath. Need more blood be spilled?

"Don't tell me what to do." He whispered, fiercely.

Knives pushed Vash to the ground, and turned on his heel.

Quickly moving out of the way as not to be the next victim, the crowd of people let Knives pass through in silence.

Knives stripped himself of the redcoat as he went until it fell to the ground, lonely in the dirt.

Starring up at the deep blue sky, Vash watched the stars begin to disappear.

He could hear crying.

"You're okay, right? Well… I mean…" Clint stumbled over his words as his face came into Vash's view, blocking the stars and sky.

Vash looked at Clint's sunglasses.

Clint watched the terrible tears roll down the outlaw's face.

Meryl stared at the two of them, and for the first time, in a long time, she wanted to comfort Vash; just to get those cutting tears to stop. To get that smile back, the one he was supposed to have on. She had felt this feeling loads of time before… when she loved…but she never had the guts to do it. She was afraid to; she used to face guns, but hugging him was something she could never do… even more so now… even as friends, the ring on her left hand prevented it as well as the blond boy that Meryl was till sure was Vash's son.

"Here," Clint lifted Vash's head, and rested it on his leg. "So you can see Meryl," he whispered, and then called "Meryl, would you- Vash is in bad shape…"

She was pulled out of her trance.

"There are first aides in each of the defense vehicles," an employee from the Sandsteamer told her.

"Thank you," she nodded.

"Under the driver's seat." He added.

_To see Meryl._ What was this kid talking about? Yes, it would help, but he really shouldn't think that way; she's engaged after all. Though, he wouldn't turn down the offer. He began wondering if Clint was very keen, or if his interest in her was obvious.

Meryl put herself and the first aide next to Vash. Opening it, she gazed over Vash. She hadn't done this in ages, but she still remembered the procedure (how could she forget?) she bit her lip before pulling out a needle, and thread.

"I know you hate stitches," She smiled wearily. "But it's a must."

It was awkward for her to talk in such a situation while Vash's eyes were full of hurt.

Vash looked away from the woman he couldn't have. He couldn't stand blood, and he couldn't watch the sewing of skin covered in it.

His hand dug into the dirt as the needle poked through; it hurt, but was nothing compared to his emotional pain.

After watching the dirt crumble in Vash's finger, Clint looked up at Meryl, she noticed it too. As the made eye contact, she felt a sort of pressure from him, and to Clint's disappointment, she looked away.

Although Clint was afraid of being suspiciously close, he filled the part Meryl was supposed to, and grabbed Vash's hand still disappointed.

Meryl wondered how Clint had the nerve to ask (non-verbally) such a thing when she already had Charles, and anyway, if she didn't she need _both_ hands to stitch him up.

"I'm sorry," Meryl told Vash. She didn't want to say anything, but yet she wanted to express her sympathy. "He's still like that after nearly five years?"

"You say that like it's a long time."

"It is."

"Yes, I suppose to you it is." He looked back at the disappearing stars.

Meryl was quiet. She couldn't expect Vash to understand how many changes were in those years, because for Vash it had been nothing more than a month. To them, Knives really hadn't been with him all that long; their battle had lasted over 130 years, and with all the time she spent pondering it, she still couldn't relate. Her whole life would be a sentence in a book. Would he forget her? No, he never forgot Rem, and even if Meryl didn't have such a big effect on Vash, he hasn't failed to forget any friend. That's why it was better… for her to be with Charles; they would grow old together, and die together.

………

Knives glared at the rising suns.

Most everyone was saved, wasn't that enough?

He picked up a rock, and chucked it towards the rising suns.

How could anyone love these humans? How could Vash possibly care for even people such as Bandera? It's disgusting. It was sure to be his fall.

Knives couldn't stand the expectations of Vash. How could someone be so confused? Feel so comfortable, that sick-

He even trusted Knives…

_"You lied to me!"_

Knives found it funny in a way…so funny that he actually took the time to laugh out loud.

As he stared at the wasteland, he realized he could leave. It would be easy. All he had to do was walk. He could start all over again. Gather more demons, battle out his brother. History did have a way of repeating itself.

Like today… only it was that insurance girl instead of Rem, and all the people she left behind, died. Just as would be if Rem had come with them. Nothingness. Death. Besides that the only thing different was _he,_ Knives, didn't get involved. Or did he?

_"You lied to me!"_

Yes, he lied. He lied, and therefore it was his fault they had died, his fault he shot Bandera. He'll take all the credit, gladly, like a hunting trophy… the way it's always been. Men, women, children, yes death… they were fated to die. It wasn't his fault; everything was and is Vash's fault. His fault they were still here, his fault Knives hadn't created an Eden.

Who chooses right and wrong? IS there right or wrong? Or is it just strength and weak?

_"You lied to me!"_

Why not leave?

He looked over the desert, the dry dirt, flat and boring. It was exhausting just to look towards the horizon. Nothing was out there, only dirt.

It would be easy.

"Hey Knives?"

He whirled around at lightning-speed.

That punk was here. Why? It was obvious he was on Vash's side.

Knives pulled out his gun and aimed it as those annoying sunglasses. He wasn't planning to shoot him, really.

"We're leaving soon." Clint answered.

"Good, now leave."

Slightly relieved, he took the invitation, it was hard not to with a gun pointed to your head.

…..

Because of Vash's condition, he was volunteered to lie across the ground of the automobile and ironically, Clint was the only person Knives would sit next to, Meryl sat squished between Clint and a very large mustache man that was trying to fall asleep restlessly.

She had managed to find a paper, and pen (from who knew where) and was fiddling with her precious diamond in her fingers, while staring down at a blank letter.

She wanted to write Charles, but didn't know where to start. The biggest problem was that she hadn't told him anything about Vash, and then she didn't want him to worry about her… although he would anyway.

Meryl caught Vash watching her, and they both looked away immediately.

_"I don't want to loose you again!"_

It ran through Meryl's head.

What did he mean "again"? He's the one that told her to leave. Or was it something more? Obviously it was crucial for her to get in that vehicle.

……

Clint started coughing that evening. He couldn't stop himself.

"Are you alright?" Meryl asked.

Clint continued to cough, but nodded.

Mind ticking, Knives watched him out of the corner of his eye.

Clint's eyes watered.

"Here," Meryl handed him a canteen of water.

He took it gratefully, and between coughs, let it soar down his cracking dry throat, with hopes it would retain the water in some way that the dry dirt of Gunsmoke did.

"Are you sure you're okay? You're really white."

"I'll be fine," he whipped his mouth of excess water.

Clint glanced from Vash, who was asleep on the ground, to Knives, who was now watching him with a still expression that had some sort of suspicion hidden under it.

He rubbed his forehead as cold sweat went down his neck. Uncontrollably, his wet hand quivered as he searched his pockets until they found a small zip-locked plastic bag. Inside that bag were about a dozen large white pills. His hand feebly opened it, and just as clumsy, he let his fingers curl around one of them.

"What is that?" Meryl asked with suspicion.

"M- medication."

"Oh."

She watched him bring his hand back up to his mouth which swallowed the pill.

He closed his eyes, (although no one could tell) and took several deep breaths, coughing in between.

….

Vash and Knives scarcely spoke, but whenever they did, it was in arguments. Sometimes Knives would say such terrible things, it made Meryl's blood curdle, and sent chills down her spine. She hated that man, and wondered how Vash had ever let him wear his beautiful red coat to impersonate him. He was nothing like Vash. He was an ugly image, even his name was ugly. _Knives_. It suited him perfectly; thousands of dagger flying through the air for murder, for blood lust, and one-by-one they cut into Vash.

Having heard such horrible things, Meryl, an innocent insurance girl, made up a "what if" story in her mind about killing him for everyone's sake.

The ride to December wasn't very bumpy (thankfully) but one must admit that it wasn't very comfy, considering that these vehicles were built for the sake of protecting the Sandsteamer from crazy bandits and such, and not for luxurious vacations. If one was to describe it in one word, it would be _hard_. Possibly it was made so hard and uncomfortable so those protecting the Sandsteamer would rather stand up and keep a look out than sit and try to get very little sleep.

It was on this very hard ride that Meryl was reminded that she could run away from the chaos, murder, violence, and death anytime she wanted to, like it was nothing at all. Vash however, was fated to it. No matter how much he ached, running away could never be an option, for he was the only thing standing between life and death of civilization.

….

"Are you feeling better?" Meryl asked Clint as they wandered the streets of December. It was normally a very beautiful place, but because of the plant accident, it looked worn and rusty. The outskirts of December were filling up with sand, and the citizens left were less joyful.

"Yeah," Clint answered.

"Car sick?" Vash asked.

Clint shook his head. "It happens to me quite a bit to be honest. I just get sick.

Knives watched Clint again.

"Vash, why don't we just pick a hotel?" Meryl asked with a heavy sigh.

"A hotel? I'm looking for the hospital."

"I was wondering why we walked passed so many…" She said under her breath.

When they finally came across a blue mail box, she let out another sigh, but of relief, and whipped out an envelope addressed to Charles Glenning in Sunset city.

Giving the letter a quick kiss, she let it drop through the slot on top of all the other letters inside.

(Might I take a moment and say, if you love Vash and Meryl together, you will thank me for not reciting what was in this letter, because it would tear you apart, and make you want to grab a shotgun and find this _Charles_ once and for all.)

"The hospital is in the middle of the city," Knives answered bitterly. "It's obviously not down this street full of hotels. It would be much better suited by other medical businesses."

Vash's small limp slowed to a stop.

"Maybe we should have the doctors look at you," Clint suggested.

"And you." He answered.

"I don't think the doctor can do much to help _him_," Knives answered, looking down at the punk.

Abandoning his eyes to the ground, Clint suddenly didn't feel so well again.

"Well," Meryl sighed again, sensing tension. "We can decide when we get there."

"I just want to see Stungun Millie," Vash voiced, turning to face them. "So we better go in the right direction."

"Now there's a good idea," Knives sneered with sarcasm.

Meryl caught herself glaring at him, and stopped before he could see. It wasn't a very wise thing for her to be doing.

So, with another heave, they all started their way back up the street and across a few others, toward the center of December.

……

"Ms, Thompson?"

Millie sat up in bed. She wasn't really sick anymore, but because of the city's circumstances, she was forced to remain in the very plain white small square room until someone came with permission to get her out. The hospital had tried to make the room a little homier, because she had to be in it for so long, and there was a small dresser (full of empty pudding cups) with a mirror, some pictures, and a stack of newspapers and mail in the corner.

"How are you doing today, Stephen?" She asked the assistant, who had just walked in.

"Great," he smiled, "and you have visitors."

"Oh really?" She beamed.

Stephen nodded and left the room to usher the party into it.

"Meryl!" Millie gasped, and before it had reached the violet-haired insurance girl's ears, Millie was hugging her.

Slowly, Millie's eyes found a red coat, and followed it to the top of the broom head. "Vash!"

Smiling at the abnormally pale-skinned insurance girl, Vash noticed she had kept all her features, except for the fact that she was wearing a hospital gown.

She let go of Meryl.

"You big meanie! You never wrote Meryl!" She growled, and confronted Vash angrily.

Vash was so surprised with her tone and glare, he stepped back. His eyes were big.

"But I…" he stammered nervously.

Meryl actually felt herself going red.

"She was a wreck and you didn't even tell her you cared! At least as a friend!"

"I was busy…?" Vash said, putting his hands up.

Unfortunately, this only made matters worse.

"Too busy? For Mer-"

Meryl cleared her throat. "Millie." She held up her left hand.

Millie gasped at the glamorous ring, and just as capricious as Vash, she hugged the gunman. "Oh Vash, you did come through! I told Meryl you would come through!"

Meryl slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand, and like Vash, she had a sweat drop.

"When are you getting married?"

Even Knives, who was in a very bitter mood, started to snicker.

"Millie! I'm not engaged to that broom head!" Meryl cried.

Millie stopped hugging Vash, and blinked at him.

"Isn't that the way life is?" Vash asked nervously, putting his hand behind his head. He was afraid Millie would start up again. "Early bird gets the worm…I guess. That Charles Glenning is a speedster." He laughed.

"Charles Glenning?" Millie repeated, dumbfounded. "You're not marrying Vash?"

"Me, and that broom head?" Meryl forced a laugh. "I'd have to keep him on a leash."

"Here, we brought you pudding!" Vash put on a smile, trying, for now, to ignore Meryl's last comment. He held the bag out with two hands.

"Oh thank you!" She took it and after knocking empty old cups of it to the ground, she put the bag on her dresser.

She looked up and spotted Clint, who seemed to be magically invisible until now.

"This is Clint," Vash introduced, following her eyes.

"But I thought you only had one brother…"

"Oh no, we're not related," Vash insisted. "He's just staying with us a little while."

"Hello, I'm Millie Thompson! I used to work with Meryl, before I got sick."

"Well, we were employees together, but before that we were partners," Meryl explained.

"We worked against Vash."

"We worked _with_ Vash, Millie."

"How do you do?" Millie grabbed his hand and shook it.

As a smile broke across Clint's face, he answered, "It's real nice to meet you."

"Do you like pudding?"

"It's pretty good."

"How old are you?"

"I'm 14."

"That's wonderful!"

"Uh, Millie…what were you sick with?" Clint asked.

"The doctors didn't know, I just got a lot of antibiotics." She answered.

"Did you get high fevers?"

Millie nodded.

"Rashes and sores?"

"Yes."

"Bumps in your throat?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"My aunt had that." He explained.

Vash turned to Meryl, and before he could ask "she did?" Clint urgently added "er- twice removed."

"Oh." Vash looked away.

How gullible can he get? Knives wondered.

"And you're Knives," Millie found Vash's twin.

He didn't say anything.

"How are you?"

Silence.

"How about we get you out of here?" Vash suggest, grasping her shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm sorry it took me so long, evidently our Sandsteamer blew up. I forgot what it was like to be with this broom head." Meryl explained.

"I didn't even notice," Millie admitted. "You lose track of time when you're here doing nothing for so long."

"We'll change that!" Clint declared.

"We already told the front desk," Meryl assured, "but there are still some papers you need to sign."

Millie took one last look of the plain white room; she had spent so much time in it, doing pretty much nothing. Nurses had planted and poked objects down her throat, and shots in her arms, but she did receive a nice card from her family once in a while, who had missed her letters since she had had nothing to write about but pudding and bed sheets.

"I do have a quite a lot of luggage…" Millie said to them.

"Good, Vash will carry it," Meryl noted.

"Hey, he can't carry that stuff in his condition!" Clint reacted.

"I can carry it, I haven't had to carry anything in a long time," Millie volunteered.

Once Millie was ready (with Clint's help of carry quite a few odds and ends), and they had signed all the essentials, some of Millie's best friends brought her back out into the sensation of city sunshine.

Author's note

okay, reviews are much obliged, or if you have just a question or comment feel free to e-mail realize I rushed my last chapters with organization (on the website they're more organized) I just wanted to hurry and try out this place; I'll probably go back and fix them up.

Thanks for reading!

Oh, and like in any series, you'll have your action chapters, and your slightly laid back chapters.


	6. Sand, Stones, and Killing Sprees

It looked like a gigantic bowl, except that the sides were crumbling in with sand and debris, much like the city's outskirts. It was an immense crater, produced from a source of power very strong and very mysterious to the planet of Gunsmoke. Lost technology was always a mysterious subject among the inhabitants of the planet. Exactly where had it come from? Scraps of it were left on Gunsmoke, like a puzzle missing pieces. Was it part of the moment of when life began on the desert? Or remains of an old civilization that had disappeared? Plenty of this lost technology was used to survive since before humans remembered; plants were needed to make anything useful here, but still with the struggles and research, even the most intelligent people were unable to understand anymore than half the aspects.

"But why? Why would they just collapse? Die?" Meryl asked, peering down the steep side of the crater, it was so deep that she couldn't even glimpse the bottom. "Vash?" She turned.

It had been along time since she had taken the time to ponder, and now that her job and pondering were crossed, she wondered exactly what had happened here.

Blowing grains of sand against their feet and shins, the wind persuaded them to leave, as if the last thing it wanted was four adults and a teenager in its way.

Clint was sitting near the edge, his knees wrapped up in his arms and was watching Meryl question Vash cautiously. Unfortunately, Vash was too absorbed in his own thoughts to answer right away.

"They say nothing like it has ever happened," Millie spoke when Vash didn't. "They've had troubles with plants, but nothing as destructive as this."

"It killed lots of people, nearly half the population of December," Clint added.

"But the strange thing is all of them, all the plants, had the same problem… all but one." Millie continued. "And now there's only one alive for the whole city, and we have to decrease our use of power."

Knives turned away from them, and started walking back the direction they had come.

Vash hesitated before calling to him. "Where are you going?"

Knives stopped and stretched his neck to stare into Vash's crystal eyes…/Away/ He answered, not out loud, but in Vash's head, as plants have the ability to do, and continued walking away from them.

'Good radiance to that creep…' Meryl thought in the back of her mind as she watched Knives leave in silence.

Vash hesitated again, and then turned back to the pit. "It doesn't make sense to me either…"

"Maybe he just needs alone time," Millie suggested, obviously thinking Vash was referring to Knives. This only confused Meryl, who had assumed Vash had been referring to the disastrous pit, not Knives. 'Then again, Knives is a disaster,' she thought to herself.

"No one knows what caused it?" Meryl asked again.

There was a pause and then Vash asked, "Will you excuse us?" after eyeing Meryl.

"Gladly," Clint answered.

'He is much too keen,' Vash thought as he led Meryl away. 'He just better keep it to himself if I'm not so obvious.'

Once they were out of earshot, he stopped, and turned to face Meryl.

She had rarely seen him look so serious, and it startled her to see the expression etched into his face.

"It's an awful thing, Meryl. It's terrible, and frankly, I haven't seen anything like it." He stared towards the crater again. "The closest thing I can relate to it is when a plant is very angry, but…" He paused, even if Meryl knew what Vash was, he was still hesitant. "They weren't angry, they were afraid."

"Afraid?" Meryl asked. "But why would they be scared? Of what? Were they running out of power? Were they afraid to die?"

"No, they obviously had plenty of energy. I don't know what it was, but it's not normal."

Meryl felt her skin prickle at the tone of his voice, and the look in his eyes. She couldn't put her finger on it, but this wasn't right, actually it seemed it was all very wrong.

"You can tell Millie, I just didn't want to leave Clint alone…" Vash drew Meryl to a less important matter. He looked into Meryl's deep lavender eyes. "He doesn't know much about me." He looked away from them, moving his eyes downward, but where ever he looked, he was being strangled. Her eyes were too much, and as he looked down, her ring had fashionably caught the sunlight and turned it into a gleam. "...but he reads me very well."

'That kid again…' she thought. 'His kid?'

"He's very brave…" Meryl found her mouth forming the words without her consent.

"He is…"

'I was afraid…' Meryl suddenly remembered the accident on the Sandsteamer. Where had her bravery gone then? She used to be brave. 'Why was I afraid?'

….

"All I want to do is take a hot bath!" Meryl sighed, when she and Millie entered their hotel room. They had so many hotels for such a good price (now that there was little power) that she had voted for the most decent looking one on the street, which happened to be the best looking one she had every stayed in. There were two rather well-sized beds- sheets free of wrinkles- a separate room to bathe, and two sinks in front of a large mirror just outside it, the floor was soft to walk on, and the wood furniture was beautiful, some of which already supplied books and music to listen to.

"With hot water and bath salts and bubbles…" Meryl continued.

"But Meryl, you can't take a bath, we don't have the power," Millie reminded.

Suddenly, Meryl growled in annoyance. "Millie! I was on a Sandsteamer that exploded, road in a hot crowded car, been in the sand and wind, _and_ I still haven't the slightest idea what caused the plants to create such havoc and destruction!" She said this as if it was Millie's fault, although she knew it was nothing of the sort. "What am I supposed to do on our report!"

"You could blame it on Vash," Millie said, simply.

"Vash is our friend; we can't blame it on him!"

"Even after he blew you off?"

"He blew you off too, and anyway, it's been along time." Meryl held up her left hand where the ring seemed to glow, even in the dim room. "Remember? I did exactly what he told me to, I '_moved on_'!"

"You're getting married? That's wonderful!" She clasped her own hands together.

"Didn't we go through this at the hospital?" A sweat-dropped Meryl asked.

"I don't know, I was on some odd medication," She answered thoughtfully.

"Charles Glenning," Meryl felt like life had just been given to her again, and she grew calm again. She wondered what he was doing, and sighed, letting her hand drop back to her side.

"Do you miss him?" Millie asked.

"Yes…" Meryl frowned.

…

Sunset came, and left the city darker then ever before, the only light allowed was the moons' gaze over the city. Now-a-days in December, people went home very early to avoid the darkness, all except a straggling few.

Knives skulked down the sidewalk in the cold night. His soft hands tucked away in his pockets. It was windy, but really rather quiet.

It wasn't normal for a plant to act like that…just…explode. And to Knives, that meant one thing: _He was still alive_.

Knives stopped at the sound of a riot just around the corner.

Cussing erupted, and seconds later a man ran passed Knives. He was holding something, but it was to dark to tell what it was.

Pausing for a moment, Knives recalled the darkness and wondered how many children were afraid of it. Were they crying right now? He let the idea satisfy him until another voice was sounded around the corner.

"My money! Please, I need it for food!" It was another man, and he came rushing around the corner.

Whatever encouraged Knives (crying children or not) he did something disgusting. As the targeted man ran after the criminal, he pulled out the black gun, and shot the innocent.

The foodless man fell to the ground in a matter of seconds. Dead.

Knives didn't budge, didn't even blink.

"Hey!" The criminal brightened in his raspy voice. "Thanks sir!"

Knives pointed the gun at him.

The man looked at him in disbelief, and then fright. "Here! Take it, just don't kill me!" He threw the wallet which slide across the sidewalk, it stopped at Knives' feet.

"I don't want the money, and I don't want your thanks. It's not for you, it's for me."

Bang!

Thud.

Dead.

Knives cold lifeless eyes scanned over the scene. Two bodies shadowed in the dark, dead.

"It's easy, isn't it?" He asked the bodies. "ISN'T IT?" He yelled louder.

Obviously, there wasn't an answer.

He turned away from them, the dead, and began to simply walk away from it. After a few yards, he broke into a run…running into the darkness.

…

"He sounds wonderful, Meryl, I'm really happy for you! Are you sure you're over Vash?" Millie asked, after just listening to all the positive qualities of Charles Glenning.

"Oh, of course! I hardly know the man anymore!" Meryl said. "And did he ever write us? No! I'm not sure he even really cared. You know… outlaws…"

"I'm sure he ca-"

Millie was interrupted by a knock on their door.

"Hello?" Clint's voice sounded.

Clenching her teeth, Meryl wondered how long he had been there.

"Hello!" Millie called back.

"Er- can we come-"

"The door's unlocked," Meryl said, with a deep disappointment she hadn't been able to vent on Vash more.

Clint opened it and revealed Vash and himself in the moonlight.

"We brought Sand and Stones!" Clint held up a box.

"Sand and stones?" Meryl repeated, quietly wondering how the teenager had found his way to their room in the dark with sunglasses on. The scene was imagined in her head for a split second.

"Oh I love that game!" Millie clapped her hands together.

'Of course, sand and stones the board game,' Meryl thought.

Sand and Stones was a very simple game that children played; very adolescent for adults. The goal was simple: Be the first to reach the Sandsteamer. Players rolled the dice, moved their game piece that many spaces, and then drew a card that was either "sand" or "stones" (depending on what space the player's game piece had landed on). "Sand" gave the person bonuses, and "Stones" disrupted his/her journey.

Because Clint insisted it wasn't right to play any kind of poker with women, especially Meryl and Millie, Vash was forced to buy the only other game in the gift shop Sand and Stones. In reality, Vash didn't want to come and play games one bit, his mind was too preoccupied with Knives and what he could possibly be doing, but Clint insisted they play the game before beginning to worry.

"But we can't play in the dark," Meryl pointed out. "We don't have any light."

"That's why we brought candles!" Clint answered.

Meryl watched the others set up the game on the table, and light the candles, feeling anything but interested in the idea.

"Come on Meryl, it's fun this way," Clint invited. "My mom and I would always play this way."

Of course it was nice Clint was so close to his mother that they enjoyed playing Sand and Stones with candles, but Meryl had no good memories with the board game, and had no desire to play.

"Please?" Clint asked, the fire of the candles reflecting in his sunglasses.

Reluctantly, she joined them at the table. She still didn't know exactly why, but somehow the "Son of Vash" had talked it into her.

….

"Yes! Another turn!" Millie squealed, placing the Sand card in the discard pile.

Meryl always believed it was a game of luck, but Millie was so far ahead on the board that she had gotten the idea there was a strategy involved.

Looking down at the board, Meryl reached for the dice until she felt a rough something else…

She looked up. It was Vash's hand, and just that caught her off guard. It was so different compare to Charles'. The shape, the texture, the temperature…

Vash couldn't stand it.

"Oh, sorry." He moved it from under hers and definitely appreciated the dim room in hopes it would hide his soft blush.

Meryl stopped and studied the board. "Oh, I'm sorry; I thought it was my turn, go ahead."

"You can go if you want."

What was he talking about? It was his turn, not hers. Why didn't he just go?

"It's your turn."

"Thank you."

What's this 'thank you' stuff? She wondered.

Clint watched, and felt disappointment sweep into him. That was it? He sighed inside himself.

….

After telling the girls goodnight, Vash and Clint returned to their room several doors away.

"It was fun, right?" Clint asked, holding the box again, walking beside Vash. "Millie's pretty good at games, huh? Vash?"

He gave him a small smile. "I've heard she's legend."

"Yeah…" Clint agreed, feeling rather content and happy at the moment.

Finally, Vash opened the door, and to his relief, Knives was staring up at the ceiling, laying on the bed furthest away from the door.

"See Vash?" Clint asked. "Told you not to worry."

"I'm glad you found the room," Vash said. "We were playing a game with Mer- the girls."

"Don't say 'the girls'!" Clint ordered, offended. "They're not just '_the girls_'…"

'If only he knew why…or maybe he does…' Vash thought, but was too tired and relieved to think on it anymore.

Knives rolled over in silence. He wanted to tell Vash. Tell him that a hungry boy's father wasn't coming home that night, because he killed him, the innocent. It would almost be comical to see his reaction, wouldn't it? But he couldn't…no, of course he could, he was _Knives_. He could tell Vash, he just didn't want to.

….

In the other hotel room, Meryl and Millie were in their beds, absorbing the last few moments that came before falling asleep.

"Meryl?"

"Huh?" Meryl answered, half asleep.

"Did you notice Vash tonight?"

"What do you mean '_noticed_'? "

"Do you… think he likes you?"

"What are you talking about, Millie?"

"The way he reacted… his eyes…"

"Vash doesn't like me that way," she said matter-of-factly.

"But did you see his eyes?"

"It was dark!"

"Well, do you remember them?"

"…no…"

"You taught me to know his feelings from his eyes, because he tries to keep them to himself. That's how we could tell what he really wanted."

"I highly doubt Vash likes me, and even if he does, _I'm engaged_." What did it take to get it into Millie's head? "It's too late."

It was quiet for a long time as Meryl thought. She stared into the still darkness, pondering again.

"Millie, do you think I've forgotten him?" She asked softly. "Not as in love, but Vash in general?"

Millie let out a big snore.

Sweat-drop.

Meryl heaved a sigh.

.…

"We'll just have to ask around town," Millie suggested the next morning.

"City," Meryl corrected, putting her dirty hair up in front of the mirror.

"I'm sure we can get a lot of testimonies on what happened."

"Yes, we need _something_ for our report…guess we will have to ask around." Meryl said with disappointment.

"You make it sound like it's a bad thing."

Meryl jumped at Vash's voice and his sudden appearance in the mirror. Turning, she saw all the blonds in Millie and hers room.

"How did you get in here?"

"Millie let us in," Clint explained with a smile breaking through. "Didn't you hear us?"

"I suppose not…" She put in another bobby pin and sighed. "I wish there was running water."

"What's for breakfast?" Vash asked, peering around the room.

"I am hungry…" Millie frowned. "Meryl, do we have anything to eat?"

Vash perked up, awaiting the answer. His stomach growled.

It was only morning and Meryl was already feeling very irritated. What? Was she their mother or something? Everyone in her room (except Clint) was full grown adults, if they were hungry, why don't they do something about it?

"No, Millie, I was busy playing board games last night." Meryl answered with a tone.

"Oh yeah, that was fun!" Millie chirped.

"Yeah," Clint agreed. "Maybe you should come next time, Knives."

He didn't answer, unlike Meryl, when Knives was in a bitter mood, he generally remained silent, until pushed too far with the right prick.

"So no one has had any food?" Vash asked again.

"No, we don't have any food," Meryl answered. "If you're hungry-"

"But everyone is hungry," Vash pointed out the dilemma. "They have a pancake house down the street, I'll treat everyone." He volunteered.

It was either a very delicious pancake house or everyone was so hungry, that it made it delicious as it filled their stomach.

Meryl thought she would never meet anyone who could eat as much as Vash, but her jaw almost fell watching Knives nearly out beat the outlaw. Neither Vash nor Knives took it as a contest, but she was counting long after everyone else was done.

"Well, now that I have a full stomach," Vash exclaimed as he pushed away the rest of his 13th pancake. "Let's go investigate, and then maybe we can do something _fun_."

"Ooh! Like what?" Millie asked, obviously wishing to switch the order.

"Let's worry about that when we're done with out report, Millie," Meryl said, struggling to sound calm.

Vash paid for the large amount of food, and they all left.

"Where should we start?" Clint asked. He peered up and down the street.

"The plant that wasn't destroyed was supporting power for the eastern outskirts of the city and an orphanage about 20 iles away." Millie informed.

"An orphanage?" Meryl asked. "Out there? You sure? Who in the right mind would put one there?"

"A priest," Vash answered.

"A priest?" Meryl repeated.

"Wolfwood's." Knives said, gazing his cold eyes on a little boy and his father. They were arguing about something, and Knives was seeking to enjoy it.

Uneasily, Meryl shuffled a little.

"Wolfwood?" Millie asked. "We should stop by… are we going to?"

Still watching the boy, Knives asked. "Why? So we can tell them the news?"

"Don't talk like that," Vash cautiously said.

"Well, it's true, he is dead." He answered simply.

The boy started crying and his father hugged him.

Neither Vash nor Meryl dared look at Millie, but if they had, they would have seen that Millie was fine, she was just a little eager. Clint saw this, but he had no idea what everyone was acting so eccentric about.

"And you know what?" Knives continued. "I don't care…I don't care anymore." He turned to Vash. "He's dead, and you overate it. You overate all of it."

Before he would have to listen to Vash's annoying lines of how horrible death was, he left them again, his pace quickening in anger.

Vash apologized. "Yes, we'll go, Millie, and I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be Vash, you have done a wonderful job!"

Questioning, Vash stared at her.

"Maybe I'm wrong…" Her expression changed at Vash's look. "But didn't he say 'anymore'? Doesn't that mean he cared once?"

Clint watched, still confused in everything.

Vash noted Millie's answer, and also noted it took only someone like Millie to recognize the good in everything.

….

The orphanage, I am sorry to say, was in very poor condition. White walls were cracked and dirty, and so were the windows that had glass remaining. It was the oddest place Vash had ever seen for an orphanage, but that didn't matter.

With an odd sense of butterflies in the adults' stomachs, Millie reached her hand up and knocked on the door.

They waited a long few minutes before someone finally opened it; a woman that looked about 19 with sky blue hair, and several freckles that was holding a bowl in her right hand, stared at them in slight surprise from the doorway.

"Wolfwood," Millie started. "Did he work here?"

"Wolfwood? No, I don't, we don't know a Wolfwood."

"Are you sure? We were good friend with him."

The woman's hand slipped, and the bowl _clank_ed to the ground.

"Friends?" She repeated in her small voice.

"Yes," Millie answered.

Clint picked up the bowl and handed it back.

"I'm sorry," the woman said, "he died…"

"Yes," Millie said sadly. "We were there."

Taking a sudden step back, the woman took a moment to regain herself. "Well, he's not here obviously, so if you're not going to adopt, maybe you should leave."

"Actually," Vash started. "Do you know anything about the plant disruption?"

"Just because we got our power from the one plant that didn't explode doesn't mean we had anything to do with it!" She said sharply. "Now _please_."

Vash noted the reaction.

"Please, we just need some information for a report," Meryl said.

"Nothing happened _here_, we're not by the city."

"But you're not very far." Meryl insisted.

"Nothing, now please, I'm very busy."

"Are you sure?" Meryl asked.

"Of course I'm sure!" She yelled.

It went quiet.

"Please leave," She said in a shaky voice. "_Now_."

"Can we play with the children?" Millie asked in a small hopeful voice.

"Just please leave us alone, it's hard enough already."

Vash studied her.

"Go."

She shut the door.

"I'm sorry, Millie," Vash said as they began to make their way away from the orphanage.

"Yeah, and I need this report done by tomorrow morning." Meryl frowned in distress. "If that woman just answered some questions-! What are we going to do!"

"Maybe we can go play tomorrow," Clint told Millie hopefully.

"No…it's not right…" She frowned.

"Nothing's right and life is heck!" Meryl growled, and kicked a rock.

"I know! Donuts!" Vash cried. "The always cheer me up!"

"I don't eat donuts," Meryl and Clint both said.

"Clint!" Vash gasped as if he had just strangled an innocent kitty.

"Now I know you're not his son," Meryl said to Clint.

Clint gave her a timid smile.

….

That night Vash and Clint brought some snacks into Meryl's and Millie's room, and munched on them, listening to Meryl's typewriter create a song filled with little noise and plenty of writer's block. She didn't have much to work with, but she had to get _something_ out.

"Maybe I can help," Vash suggested, as her typewriter came to another silent part of the song.

"Vash did you even go to school?" Meryl asked.

Popping in another piece of candy in his mouth he answered. "That doesn't mean I can't write." He came to her side, peering down at the typewriter.

Meryl moved it away. "I think I'll be able to do it just fine, thank you very much." By this she meant "better than any outlaw can with this little information", but only females would ever catch on to the idea.

"Well, if you change your mind…" was all he said in return, and sat back down with Clint, Millie, and a pile of junk food.

….

Knives, on the other hand was wandering the very dark streets of December again. His mind worked vigorously.

_Flashback_

Pondering the dark scene, he was absorbing the outline of the girl's face.

"You helped him escape," Knives had said to her.

"No, I-" She stammered. "I didn't mea-"

"You're lying to me," Knives said calmly, and then erupted. "Don't lie to me!"

The female shook in fear, and Knives smirked.

I didn't want to have trouble with you two, Janell. Did you think you could hide it?" He almost laughed.

"It's not true," she shook.

Knives' eyes narrowed.

"It's not true!" She was crying.

"Legato."

"Master," he bowed and moved to the curled up female.

"No! It's not true!" She sobbed as Legato neared.

The shriek echoed and cut through the darkness. Then silence filled the black.

_End flashback_

When crying reached Knives' ears, he followed it.

The noise was coming from a child, huddled on the sidewalk.

He stopped at her. Her skin had Goosebumps from the cold, and her brown hair hung from her scalp in chunks. Her hands were wet from crying.

…..

Meryl's eyes grew heavier and heaver as the night wore on and on. She smacked herself several times in hopes of staying awake.

"Stay awake, awake," she told herself in the candle light.

Before she knew it, she was typing the same words over and had to concentrate as hard as she could to keep it sounding professional, but her eyelids kept shutting, and it felt like a struggle every time she had to open them.

"Apparently the damages… the damages…"

Millie snored softly, wrapped in wonderful cotton warm blankets and a soft feather pillow, so comfortable she could have been sleeping in a warm cloud.

Talking had died down between Vash and Clint, but with so much junk food, they were hardly tired at all.

"The damages…" Meryl repeated, but her fingers didn't move. "The- T-H-E, the da- dama- damages- D-A-M-A-G-" She struggled. "Have to stay awake," she whispered, before falling asleep once and for all.

….

"I'm lost," the child cried. "It's too dark."

Knives looked down at her.

"Please help me find mommy."

His smooth hand found the gun.

It's easy to shoot a gun. Just pull the trigger. Anyone can do it; you could teach a monkey to do it, maybe even a dog.

It's easy, isn't it?

….

Meryl gasped and jerked awake as light came through the window. Being struck with an electric shock, she jolted up in bed.

"The report!"

She scrambled out of the warm covers and rushed to the table.

What was she going to do? It needed to be in _now_ and she didn't finish it! She must have fallen asleep writing it!

She hurried through the pages.

She didn't even remember falling asleep.

"Oh no! It's- it's," she flipped through the pages. "It's done?" She blinked. "But…" She thought hard, trying to remember last night, but it was a blur of a dream.

"Millie…" She said slowly. "Did you finish the report?

Yawning, Millie answered leisurely "I thought you were. Was I supposed to?"

Meryl skimmed through it.

….

"Donuts!" Vash gasped hours later.

Meryl shoved the box into his hand before he could tackle her to the ground in excitement.

As Vash's mouth watered, he opened the box. The donuts practically glowed. Squealing, he grabbed one, biting into it.

"How come he gets food?" Millie said with awe and a hint of envy.

"Because he saved my life!"

"But you've never bought donuts for him before…"

"But this was serious!"

Silence interrupted, and everyone blinked at her.

"If we didn't get that report in who knows what would have happened? Millie, you should take our job more seriously." Meryl chastised.

"Yes ma'am!"

Meryl glanced at Vash as he bit into another donut and watched her.

"What?" Meryl asked.

"No-ffin," he said with a full mouth.

….

At the end of another day, Knives, Clint, and Vash were sleeping quite peacefully until a sudden sensation woke them up in an instant.

"Knives? Knives?" Vash said with panic in the dark.

"Yes…"

"Again? Is it happening again?"

He didn't answer.

Vash's body felt heavy. "Why? What's going on?" he asked, feeling the despair of some plant presence far off, the power from it, (or them) rising at a dangerous rate. "Who or what can do such a thing?" He sighed. "They're afraid and more people are going to die!"

Clint stirred and found a candle to light. "Is it another plant?" He asked.

"Yes," Vash said sadly. "Yes, the same thing that happened here, it's happening again." He moved out of the bed, and feeling very anxious, began to pace in the very dim room.

Knives watched both of them, Vash pace, and Clint dig through his small bag until he found his medication which he gulped down.

Finally, he rose from his bed, grabbed the lit candle, and began searching through the drawers of the hotel dressers. When he found a large folded up piece of paper, he pulled it out and flattened it on the table. It was a map. He began to search it, pausing for moments to sense the destruction.

"I can't take it!" Vash hit his fist on the table. "Just standing here, unable to do anything!"

"I'm sorry," Clint told him.

"It's not your fault," Vash said.

He could sense the fear of the plants. What was going on?

"There." Knives pointed on the map.

Vash looked at the small dot, Clint followed his lead. It was labeled Delta.

"Delta?" Clint asked. "It's happening in Delta?"

Just second later, Vash felt his senses burst with the sudden explosion of power that was far away from here.

"No…no…they're gone," he said, feeling the power decrease in his spirit.

"They're dead." Knives announced.

Clint stared at the dot, wondering if it would ever appear on future maps.

"Dead," Knives repeated, moving away from the table.

Frustrated, Vash began to pace again. There was nothing to be done with _Delta_, when he was stuck in December City in a hotel room.

Author's note:

If you've read please review, It really helps a writer if they know how the reader feels etc. What did you like? What didn't you like? What do you think? Thanks a bunch to those of you who have reviewed. The next chapter has action, among other things. Thanks for reading and I mean that sincerely.


	7. Delta

On their way to Delta on a bumpy bus ride, Meryl asked Vash "Are you sure? The plants _were_ sick like in December?"

He nodded.

They were the only passengers on the bus, and had managed to persuade the bus driver to take them with much difficulty. Clint was sick again, a wet wash cloth rested on his forehead, and Vash felt almost just as bad with worry, Millie on the other hand, was fast asleep having written her family last night, and looked rather comfortable leaning against the window.

Quietly, Vash thought of the night before, over and over, it replayed like a video or a broken record. He recaptured it until he finally realized a severe curiosity.

"Wait a minute…" He said, and sharply turned his head to the sick teenager. "How…" More popped into his head. 'Oh no,' he thought.

Clint was afraid of the words that were trying to find their way out of Vash's mouth; they had both messed up secrecy last night.

"How did you know it was another plant?" Vash asked with caution.

"What?" Clint asked.

"How did you know I knew…" Vash felt his insides stir.

"Well I, I didn't, I just-" Clint looked into Vash's eyes and felt unable to lie after letting such a mistake slip. He paused.

Now watching with interest, Knives wondered if Vash was going to finally become suspicious.

Vash looked at the resembling teenager.

"I know you're not human," Clint sighed.

"Who told you that?" Vash asked.

"No one!" Clint quickly answered. "I found out on my own."

"I knew you were clever, but not that clever." Vash wasn't sure why, but he smiled. "Listen…" he leaned closer to Clint. "Let's keep it a secret."

"Of course." He smiled.

"Darn, am I that easy to read?"

"No," Clint shook his head. "I just have a knack for it."

"Good, because," he leaned even closer. "I'd be in big trouble with her."

"Meryl?" Clint whispered.

Vash nodded. "Who knows what she would do to me if she found out about it…me and her…"

Staring into the bland desert that stretched further than the eye could see, Knives had lost earshot and interest in the conversation.

The desert was a wasteful piece of land, incapable for millions of living organisms to survive with out the right tools. It glared at him as his mind left it alone, becoming preoccupied with former matters.

_Flashback_

"Master," Legato bowed. "The rebellious is believed to be dead."

"Do you have proof?" Knives asked.

"No, master." Legato bowed deeper, seeking apology.

"Then find some." His master demanded, narrowing his eyes.

"As you wish," Legato answered and departed to get the job done before consequences could arise.

He never did. Legato never found proof of the man…whether he was living or dead, was left alone when the bullet pierced Legato's imperfect body.

_End flashback_

Knives looked at his sleek gun. It was time to decide which side he belonged to, the line between Vash and his past was too thin to stand on anymore. If that man was still alive, where did Knives belong?

"It's okay," a joyful voice behind Knives interrupted his thoughts. "I won the pudding contest!" The sleeping insurance girl celebrated, before snuggling into the window more, in a sleep filled with bliss.

"You must get sick when you travel," Meryl told Clint later on the bus ride, re-wetting his wash cloth with her valuable water bottle, and reuniting it with his forehead.

"Meryl, why did you dump Vash?" He asked.

"What! We weren't ever together!" Meryl said so loudly that Millie jerked awake and Vash turned to discover was the commotion was.

"I thought- the way it all sounded," Clint stammered. "I assumed he was your old boyfriend or something."

"He's _not_ my old boyfriend!" she said haughtily.

She caught eye contact with Vash, who went red and looked away.

Meryl wanted to scream. What was wrong with all these people?

"I'm engaged!" She bellowed at Clint.

"I know," he said in a small voice.

Meryl let the angry air out of her lungs. She almost wanted to ask what that broomhead had been saying to make him think such an outrageous idea.

"We weren't ever together. He was my job, and then we were just friends." She said more calmly.

"Then you liked him?"

Sweatdrop.

"It was a long time ago." Meryl grumbled. "Not to mention one sided."

"One sided?" Clint asked curiously.

Meryl waved the idea away with her hand; she had no desire to further the conversation.

….

Jolting to a harsh stop, the bus doors opened to let the passengers depart from the sickening transportation.

"Thanks for the ride," Clint nodded to the bulky irritated fat man behind the wheel.

"Thank you," Vash said, stepping off.

"Whatever," the driver grumbled and shut the door with a loud _creak_.

They felt the dust flow into their lungs as the bus rolled away from them. Clint coughed in response, and Meryl watched it leave, looking very annoyed.

Facing the annihilated town, Vash stared at the cracked and crumbling buildings that haunted him with despair, reaching at him like a poor beggar. Slowly he began to walk towards them, but something felt very wrong. He picked up speed, walking faster and faster until he was running.

"Vash? Where are you going?" Meryl darted after him. "What's-"

"The people," Vash yelled. "There isn't a soul…"

Like grasping for air when being pulled too long under water, he searched the deserted streets full of decomposing buildings. After a half a dozen blocks, the buildings dispersed until only bare dirt surrounding a large crater was under his feet.

His feet fell limp and he was obligated to come to a stop.

"Oh no," Meryl whispered as she stopped at Vash's feet, staring at the satanic pit.

"What's happening?" Vash asked.

'Don't cry,' Meryl begged within herself. 'I hate his tears.'

"I don't know what to do." Vash said with defeat. "I don't know where to start. I don't know what to look for!"

His once perky shoulders sloped down revealing a melancholy stature that would make even the suns shining down on them depressed.

Vash was Meryl's job once, a friend, a love. She swore she would follow him always, and do whatever she could to stop his hurt, and to help him. Her will was so strong she thought the only way anyone could stop her would be to tie her to a block of iron with barbed wire, and leave her in uncharted desert to die. _But_ Vash found something worse. Something that tripped, confused, and dazed her countless times.

Remembering this, she watched his red coat furl in the wind like a flag.

"Vash," she spoke. "We'll figure this out; I promise…I'll help you get to the bottom of it." She wasn't sure why she had said it, but too late now, it was out. Even if Vash was her past, he was still part of her… somewhere.

"I don't want to fight anymore…" he answered.

"I'll help you too!"

Meryl turned to see Millie and the teenager quite out of breath, obviously from running after them. Their hair tangled from the wind, and their mouths dry from battered breath.

"Now we have lots to do!" Millie continued.

Meryl wondered what was needed to be done in the middle of what was now a nowhere. Suddenly she remembered another report was essential.

"We'll search for survivors," Millie suggested. "And you two can make camp!"

"Now wait a minute," Meryl said with more force than she had intended. "Clint has been sick, and that goes for you too, Millie."

"Hmm… you're right, we'll make camp and you two will scope the place."

Meryl opened her mouth, she was thinking of scrambling the pairs, but unfortunately, Millie's plan was more logical. Closing her mouth, she glanced at Vash, awaiting his word.

….

Knives was searching the town for a specific someone, eyes darting wildly around every corner as he dashed up and down streets full of broken buildings.

Was he possibly still here?

Just as Knives wondered this, a soft _thump_ sounded, and a small distance in front of him stood a rough looking man dressed in very ragged clothing and a hat that perched itself roughly on the top of his matted hair.

Knives stopped, grinning.

_He was still here._

….

The streets Vash and Meryl traveled down were eerie, and quiet. Buildings outlined the streets, disturbing to the eyes, and mangled worse than those of December.

"Do you think we'll find any survivors?" Meryl asked, walking along side of Vash.

"In all truth?" He asked with glossy eyes. "No, but I'm anything but hopeless. If we do, we can get more information."

They caught eye contact for a moment before he started scanning the area again.

Gasping within herself, Meryl almost stumbled backward. The alarm clock had finally gone off and she had immediately been thrust from her sleep, remembering forgotten information that had once been so essential to her.

His eyes. Yes, his eyes! She remembered how they looked that night in the candle light, how they've looked a lot since she had met him again. It came back in a serious of flashes that sped through her mind, unclogging her memory. She saw him eating donuts, him in trouble, him embarrassed, when he remembered murder, him sad and empty, when he felt alone, him thinking of Rem, him after defeating Knives, and she always saw his eyes.

She didn't forget him…she didn't belong at his side anymore, but how did she- how _could_ she forget how to evaluate those eyes? She was excited she had remembered, but angry she had forgotten.

….

Knives smirked, and even laughed a little at the man before him. He was a haggard with an overgrowth of hair in various places, and his once dazzling golden blue eyes were now a cold grey washed over with the past.

"Chame. I knew you were behind this- the only one with the patience, determination, and wisdom to create such havoc."

Motionless, the man stared at Knives.

"Now tell me," Knives continued. "What are you planning to do now that you've fished me out? I'll even consider your plan; you've gotten this far on your own. I'll take you, free of penalties."

Chame cursed under his breath. "I didn't do this for _you_." He pulled out a gun and filled it with ammunition. "I did it for me." He aimed it at Knives. "Imagine a place between life and death."

….

"Are you coming?" Vash asked Meryl.

She hadn't even noticed she had stopped walking until he asked this; her mind had been gulped by her memory which contained the messages brought by Vash's eyes.

"Yes, sorry," she hurried up to him.

Watching her, he turned away.

Meryl's heart jumped as she remembered his eyes when they had played Sand and Stone, and how similar they were just now.

_"Do you… think he likes you?"_ Millie's voice rang in her ear.

'Ugh! That stupid broomhead!' She screamed inside herself. 'Oh I hate him! Creep!'

"Are you okay?" Vash asked sincerely after examining the look on her face.

"Just fine!" She growled, but it didn't take a genius to figure out she was very upset.

"What's wrong?" Vash blinked.

Meryl clenched her fist at the innocent haunting eyes. "You know I'm engaged!" she said bitterly.

"Yes, how it that?" Vash asked. Maybe she was upset about that.

Meryl didn't understand why he would ask.

When she didn't answer, Vash continued. "Has he written you?"

"No," she frowned, forgetting the anger inside her. "We've been traveling too much, but I'm sure he's tried."

"Of course," Vash assured.

"I need to go home soon."

"To get ready for the wedding?"

Meryl nodded, scanning the area again. "Then I can see Charles."

….

Knives stared at the gun before him, laughing. "I hope you're joking for your sake."

Chame slowly shook his head.

Knives became serious. "Your thinking always got to you…"

"A draw."

Knives smirked again. "A little reckless to give your life up after Janell tried so hard to preserve it." He pulled out his black gun.

"You're a thief, you swore us the money, but you let him die!"

"For someone so smart, you've really got your emotions tangled; one of the reasons it didn't work. I must remind you, Wolfwood was the one who sold you to me in the first place."

"He had to," Chame snarled. "Because of _you_, but you _and_ Legato lied."

"It was Wolfwood's choice; it was his destiny the second he let his first bullet fly. He was meant to get involved in such matters."

"I changed my destiny."

Knives shook his head. "You were always rebellious, naive even, but most humans- partial human are."

"Enough talk," Chame spat. "All that matters is what you are, and what you won't be when I'm done."

"Heh," Knives replied loathingly.

If Chame had come for a fight, Knives would personally guarantee him the opportunity.

….

Searching each building, Vash and Meryl walked from place to place, praying that any survivors could, with their help, remain survivors.

"How did you meet him?" Vash asked, as they walked towards what looked like an old grocery store…or what was left of it.

"At the city fair. He just came up to me, and introduced himself, I was very hesitant, but he never held back." She sighed. "I wasn't interested at first, and tried to shake him off."

"Of course," Vash said, entering the shattered store. "The only thing that scares you is yourself." He avoided looking at her as he gave a small smile; a small smile with pain. Surprisingly, he still had a hard time swallowing the idea of her marriage. "…afraid of the feelings that are natural…"

She opened her mouth to speak, but then Vash added. "It's okay…I am too." He glanced at her just for a moment. "No one's in here."

He turned to leave.

Meryl knew the look of the eyes; the sober glow represented him thinking of the woman that had encouraged Meryl's distance, Rem.

"No…" Meryl disagreed, following him outside. "It's not true… I was afraid on the Sandsteamer."

"Yes, me too, but you're always brave."

"That's not true anymore either, Vash, I almost couldn't do anything…"

"It's okay."

"No! It's not! I'm not the same anymore!"

Vash was taken aback by her tone.

"Things are different for me." She continued. "Vash, I was really afraid! I can't live like this."

Questioning, he looked at her.

"Like, like this," she motioned to the broken businesses and houses. "I wish I could like I used to, but I can't, I'm not cut out for it anymore."

Vash grew quiet as she explained her turmoil, and once she was finished, answered. "It's okay, I understand." At her words, he felt sorrowful, finally realizing Meryl wasn't constantly Meryl anymore. Meryl would make promises of hope to Vash, but she would keep those promises, and _this_ insurance girl just _couldn't anymore_.

An uncomfortable silence brushed over them until Vash began to call out for lost souls again as they trudged down the street.

In her own thoughts, Meryl felt guilty. She had always known Vash had wanted to settle down, like she was about to, but he couldn't. If he did, no one else would be able to live any kind of life. And _she_ had just rubbed it in his face.

….

_BANG!_

"ERRAAH!" Knives ran forward and dodged the bullet with diligent speed.

He brought forth his bloodshed hands, aimed, and shot.

Placing his hand on his hat like he was tipping Knives a farewell, Chame moved behind a house resembling a grave- out of Knives' perception.

'The poor wretched mind can't even tell the difference between a draw and a gunfight,' Knives thought.

Peering before he went, Knives snuck against the other side of the building. After reaching the corner, he peered, and continued to the back of it. Dangerously holding his gun, he jumped out, prepared to attack like a cat, but Chame wasn't there.

He glanced behind- no Chame- forward- no Chame.

Cautiously, he continued searching around the building again.

_BANG!_

Knives slid out of the way. If he wasn't doing the hunting, he was being hunted.

Another _bang_ while his feet were still sliding against the coarse dirt and the pain twitched in his shoulder as the bullet struck from above him.

He whirled his eyes up and clutched his shoulder- his bleeding hole of flesh. It hurt so horribly, like needles were under the skin and spreading out in every direction.

As he pondered of the roofs above, he noticed the mangled debris cutting through the backside of the building, shaped perfect for latching on to and climbing up.

He planted his hands and feet on the bricks, and with much difficulty, began climbing up the side of the building.

The brick sides of the building reached up some feet further than the flat slightly caved in roof, forming a sort of railing around it

Chame nested his back against the small brick-railed edge (the same side his enemy was going to be climbing over) and held the gun steady in his hands. Listening to Knives struggle up the wall, he prayed he wouldn't he wouldn't be seen before the right time made itself clear.

Once Knives' hands reached the ledge, his eyes searched the building tops. 'Where is he?' He listened intently for the smallest, quietest noise.

Chame rose up and Knives immediately reacted the moment he heard his body rub the brick lining. As Chame aimed, Knives let his body slip out of sight as the gun went off.

Knives swung his legs up to the edge, and heaved his body's momentum over the brick lining.

He rolled to his feet before Chame could realize what was happening, forced his enemy's hand behind his back, and pushed his stomach against the brick edge.

Chame struggled, but Knives put nearly all his weight on him by practically laying on his back; because Knives was older, and stronger, Chame was left looking down the side of the building.

….

Vash brought Meryl into another broken building on the other side of town. Half of this one was crumbled to the ground, and they could smell the particles of debris. He brought her to a halt.

"Did you hear that?" Vash asked the insurance girl.

She shook her violet head.

"Is someone there?" Vash called out, he knew he heard movement. "Come one," he said to Meryl. "I don't think this was all in vain."

Meryl followed Vash into another room, and they both heard the scratching noise.

Vash felt hope bloom, his heart pumping.

"Where are you?" He asked.

_Scratch. Scratch._

Bolting to the rubble in the corner of the room, Vash began digging through it powerfully with his hands. Meryl came to his aide, mentally preparing herself for the condition of the body, but of all the images of cracks, cuts, and bruises, couldn't have ever prepared her for what she encountered.

"Almost… almost…."

Vash dug until he felt the body warmth. The body was very small, fragile, and…and… "_Furry_!"

"Mi-aw!"

The cat leapt onto Meryl's head.

"Get it off. Getitoff!" She cried.

The cat hissed as she tried to force it off her head.

Vash chuckled.

"It's not funny!" Meryl growled, as the albino cat's claws tangled her hair.

"Re-arw!" It threatened.

Still chuckling, Vash reached for it, pulled it up, and untangled the claws. It hissed and glared at him with its big red and black eyes. Studying the cat's features, Vash blinked.

"Re-arw!"

It reached its claws out and…slice!

"Ouch!" Vash dropped it, and held his nose.

The white cat dashed out the window in a bitter mood.

"Am I bleeding?" He asked the frizzy haired insurance girl, and moved his hands.

She nodded, tending to her hair.

Vash went cross eyed trying to see it, "It hurts…" he frowned.

"I've _never_ seen a cat like that, or as vicious." Meryl pointed out.

"Albino. Don't see that very often. It's something to do with genetics- hereditary I think."

"Why would a cat like that be here?"

Vash shrugged, and then he smiled. "I wish you could have seen your face!"

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't be talking!" She pointed to his nose.

"You're right, but it was entertaining!" His smiled faded. "And disappointing…"

"We're not done searching yet, Vash" she reminded.

"Then let's get going," he agreed. "Someone could be hurt."

'Why does he have Rem written all over his face?' Meryl wondered as she watched him. 'Why does he look at me like that?' She sighed. 'He's the most complicated man I've ever met…and if he even likes me-! He missed his chance, whatever affected him after we separated. Uugh! What is going on in that broomhead of his!'

She followed him back out into the street.

….

Chame felt his insides squish against the cold bricks.

"You think you can defeat me?" Knives asked.

"I think I've done good so far, don't you?" Chame smirked.

Knives was quiet.

"What? Waiting for me to change my mind?" Chame asked. "There's nothing standing between us. You really are a coward, all plants are, and besides your enemy, Vash, I'm the only link to your past. Your only living once pawn. From my point of view, your forces are all gone, and I'm taking advantage of that. I'm here to haunt you until your death; until I get and do what Wolfwood deserved."

"Want me to show you how easy it was to kill an innocent man?" Knives asked, digging his gun into Chame's back.

"I _hate_ you."

Knives pulled his finger back on the trigger. Just as the gun went off, Chame squirmed and as if he hadn't felt anything pierce the side of his back, he tackled Knives, whose gun skid across the roof. In a rage of fury, Chame came at him, and with all his strength, he went for Knives' wounded shoulder, while at the same time, trying to get his gun up.

"Rah!" Knives kneed him hard in the gut.

_BANG!_ Chame's gun fired into the air.

Knives reached for the arm that was holding it, and then continued physically at him. He tried to pull the gun away, but retreated when Chame nearly blew a hole through Knives' arm.

Thirsting for blood like wolves, they tackled each other to the ground. Hatred pumping in Chame's heart, more hatred than he had ever felt- such a thirst for his blood, his murder, his revenge, that I can hardly find the words to describe it. Grunting, yelling, firing, adrenaline pulsed, and they were so involved in annihilating each other that it happened so fast. Suddenly Knives spotted the precise moment, his mind working faster than could be understood; he brought up and hurled the being over the brick edge.

Knives stumbled back to the ground of the roof, his cold pupils growing smaller. He tried to catch his breath as his brain organized the information. He had just thrown Chame off the roof and to the ground. Once he realized what had happened, he subconsciously jumped up and peered down the building. Chame was gone. He sighed, and sulked down again. The needles went back into place of his shoulder, and he moaned.

Retrieving his black gun, he looked down at it.

He hadn't expected to fight Chame. It wasn't fun and games anymore. Chame wasn't a child anymore, and he wasn't joking about killing him. He was trained to be superb in his works.

….

Meryl continued to ponder and her pondering led her to Clint, completely lovable, but a complete mystery.

"Vash, whether or not Clint's you son, how-"

"Woah! He's not my son!" Vash jumped out of his own pondering.

Meryl looked at him in disbelief.

"Oh come one, you said so yourself!" Vash reminded.

Suddenly Meryl became frustrated. "For love's sake, Vash, he looks like a younger you! It's not normal!"

It was Vash's turn to look at the insurance girl in disbelief, but his expression was more of a disappointed disbelief, while hers was more of a _you-must-be-joking_ disbelief.

"My gosh, I'm not going to be jealou-" Meryl changed direction mid-sentence. "Just be honest with me!"

Vash found it strange she was asking him to be honest, when she was the one who kept changing her opinion. He knew her pondering got to her, but never had it been this extreme. She was the one who needed to be honest.

"For love's sake," he repeated the ironic words that fit so well. Ironic for if Clint was his son; it wouldn't be from love, but fitting for him and his action towards Meryl ever since he had battled Knives.

Meryl stood firm.

"For love's sake, I don't know what to answer." He said more calm. "For being honest, he's not mine, and for love's sake, I thought you knew me better."

Something about the way he said it, the tone in his voice mixed Meryl up even more, because Vash loved women when she met him, and it was well before she met him.

"I don't know why he looks like me, but I know personally he's not mine."

"What I was going-"

"But it doesn't matter if I know, what matters is if you know. Do you?" He looked into her eyes, and even stopped walking now.

Meryl pursed her lips. She wanted to believe him so bad, but it was just too much of a coincidence.

Vash turned away disappointed.

Meryl couldn't stand it. "I want to believe."

"Think about it." He answered.

"How long is he going to be with you? In this danger?"

Vash shrugged. "I don't know."

"Someone his age shouldn't be involved with these matters. He's brave, but growing up too fast."

Vash didn't answer, partly because he believed her, but agreeing meant sending him home. They weren't blood related, but even without the looks, he could understand strangers mistaking the relationship.

Meryl sighed.

"He's a good kid." Vash said.

"Yes, but if you know what's good for him, you'll send him home."

"I'll think about it."

It was quiet for a while.

"You know, I've never seen his eyes." Meryl pointed out.

"Neither have I."

"Don't you think that's strange? Always wearing those sunglasses?"

"Don't teenagers do things like that?"

"I guess."

"I don't know, that's what I assumed."

….

When Knives had reached the ground again, Chame was standing, waiting from him, ghostly. Blood was down his face and several other places, and he was slightly hunched over from the fall.

Knives stared at him.

"This is it, killer," Chame announced. "The time of sweet revenge." He smiled.

Knives yelled as he charged for him.

Chame pulled out his gun and fired.

Knives touched the ground to avoid it while Chame retreated several steps back.

It was a battle for revenge, for faith, for love, for loss, and for hate; nothing fuels a person fighting more. They fought like savages, mingling strategy and cruelty into one big cry of emotion- gun firing, bodies subconsciously aching. They dashed and collided like fireworks- lusting for blood of one another. Their sweaty faces, hateful expressions, and blood of needles sinking in the grave like dirt.

Bullets in the sides, legs, upper back, and one would think it was a miracle they were still fighting and shooting.

They fell to the dirt, rolling moving, aiming, shooting.

_Clunk!_

Chame's gun flew across the ground. Knives seized the moment and put his grim reaper gun to Chame's neck.

"I'm done waiting," Knives breathed.

A part of his gun removed to reveal a bright orb of light.

….

Vash stopped, sensing a sudden distasteful power.

"We need to find Knives!" He told Meryl urgently.

"What is it?" Meryl asked.

"If he's not hurt, someone else will be, I don't know why else he would use gun in angel form…or use his _angel arm_."

Meryl felt sick.

Picking up Knives' power, Vash directed. "This way, hurry!"

Having fear come back to her, Meryl followed Vash before her mind could get in the way of her bravery.

….

"Chame, it was easy to kill Chapel. I still remember his dying screams. Fool! Now tell me, can you imagine that place between life and death?"

Reflecting in Chame's eyes, the orb increased in stature, but Knives' finger didn't move.

Chame stared into his eyes, waiting for the blow, waiting until he realized he was waiting for nothing.

Still breathing hard, he gambled. He slapped his had to his side, and found the small oddly shaped gun, a gun that wasn't filled with bullets.

"Don't move!" Knives pressed his angel gun to Chame's throat, but Chame just smiled, baring his dirty teeth.

"If you pull that trigger in that aim with that power, you'll kill us both. I know you won't because you're afraid."

He pressed the gun into Knives stomach.

"This isn't just for Vash anymore," Chame taunted.

Color drained out of Knives' face.

Chame grinned with satisfaction. "I don't have to be a plant to know what you're thinking and the answer is _yes_, this is it. The ammunition in this proves your theory true, and the dying plants are evidence of it. How does it feel to have your own idea backfire?"

Knives felt sweat drip down his neck.

"I'll kill you and the so called _Vash_ with it."

They looked into each other's eyes for a long time.

"Darn you!" Chame cursed, and lowered the gun.

Knives watched in confusion

"I came to kill Knives, dang it!" He glared at him. "You're not Knives," Chame shook his head. "You make me sicker than before. You're not him, and I can't kill someone who isn't." And just as simple as that, he tore himself from the blond man, stood up, grabbed his gun, and put on his hat, still cussing.

Knives watched him dumbfounded.

"I'll be in the city of this time, my next attack at this time," Chame nodded to the sunset that glittered over the cemetery town. "And I expect to face Knives there, not you. The real Knives, the one I'm to haunt with this," he held up the odd gun.

"Mi-aw!"

Chame watched the white cat walk to him gratefully. It purred with a chipper march, and rubbed its body against his leg

"This better be our last goodbye, stranger." He tipped his hat. "Rade," he addressed.

The cat looked at him with its big red eyes.

Turning on his heel, Chame began to limp away, the cat following behind.

Knives watched in disbelief until the man was out of view. His wounds hurting badly and his strength disappearing like an ice cube in the desert.

"Knives, what's wrong?" He heard Vash's voice minutes later, and looked up to see him and that insurance girl.

"What happened to you?" Vash demanded with utter shock.

Vash was a terrible person, much too loving and much too forgiving. So complex, but filled with what seemed to be his common sense, or in better words _his_ logic.

Meryl scanned the area for any clues, and spotted blood with freshly moved sand around them. It looked like there had been a fight, a struggle.

"I couldn't, I couldn't do it," Knives whispered. Then he let out a wailing scream that echoed through the city and crater.

Vash kneeled at his twin's side, and reached out to him, to carry him.

"Don't touch me!" Knives growled.

Vash watched him with concern as he so hurtfully forced himself on his feet. He looked at the darkening road. He took a step, just a simple one that tore Vash.

"Don't touch me," he repeated dizzily, and continued. "Leave me alone."

Meryl and Vash walked by his side in silence.

It was something to see him like this, torn and pushed; he never had much tolerance for pain.

Even if Knives was a horrible horrible man, watching him suffer, Meryl learned, wasn't all it was cracked up to be. In reality, she hated it and the concern in Vash's eyes. Maybe it was because every step made it worse, and she was just watching it.

The suns were completely down now, and the sky was darkening. They weren't anywhere close to camp.

Meryl shivered in the cold that was occupied with Knives' grunts. They got louder and louder as the night rolled on.

Finally, Knives collapsed on the earth and lost all strength to get up.

Vash bent down and felt his temperature.

"Is he okay?" Meryl asked before noticing the concern for the savage shown in her voice. "We shouldn't have let him walk."

"No…but he would have been in even worse shape if we had…he would have never let us…"

Vash pressed his rough palm on his brother's face.

Meryl watched him with curiosity, and when she couldn't figure it out, she asked. "What are you doing?"

Vash exhaled and felt energy leaving him while sensing Knives' increase. "Transferring energy." He replied, and opened his eyes. Fascinating organisms, plants are; especially twins. One wonders, such as Meryl, how they could be so different in personalities, when so much good comes from being equals.

Vash heaved Knives over his shoulder again.

The man she had been in love with, the man who sacrifices, the man who is invincible; Vash the Stampede.

Author's note:

Thanks for reading! I hope it wasn't too confusing, it can be difficult to write fast-paced action, but as for the storyline…don't be worried about being confused…it will make sense later…Be prepared to meet the handsome Charles Glenning next chapter…and a little more curiosity on Clint, whether your can consider it info or just stuff that adds more questions… I'm not sure….

Thank you!

Reviews please!

Oh yeah, I was going to mention, of course Vash cares about Knives' actions etc. but if it seems a little odd he just kind of lets him run wild, I'll back up. Let me say, Vash learned the hard way to stay out of Knives' way, of course he doesn't want him to inflict trouble, but with Vash's pressure, Knives tends to become deliberately rebellious. Normally, if Vash lets him leave in his bitter moods, he comes back, harmless.


	8. Mr Charles Glenning

The suns were well up in the sky, relieving Delta of the gothic tone and bringing it to a respectable manner. Five sleeping bags were spread a long the dirt, one more reserved than the others.

Staring up at the sky, Knives felt in the way. Not in the way as _Vash needs him to move, so he can make breakfast,_ but in the way of two forces; in the way of right and wrong, or as he preferred, logic and emotion.

He listened to Vash and the teen making sandwiches, laughing, and a few moments ago Knives had wondered what could be so funny about making pitiful sandwiches.

'_You're not Knives!'_

If he's not Knives, then who was he? What is he doing here? Right or wrong? Or just caught in between? In the way…?

Vash and Clint were whispering now, something about last night. Knives wondered if it was about him…what else had they to whisper about?

"What's that?" Millie yawned.

Clint and Vash jumped, and were relieved to she that it was Millie instead of Meryl.

"Sandwiches?" She asked curiously.

"I figured some of us needed to eat." Vash explained.

"_All_ of us need to eat." Clint eyed Vash. "_Especially_ if we've had a rough night."

"But I don't want to eat," Vash answered.

"Vash, you're setting a really bad example for me," Clint told him. "Don't make me force this down your throat!" He pointed at a sandwich.

Millie smiled at them, and helped herself to the food. "Will you two eat with me? Meryl's still asleep."

"Of course we will," Clint agreed.

"I don't like to eat alone. When I was growing up, mealtime was family time," she explained.

"My mom says that too," Clint agreed.

"How many people do you have in your family?" Millie asked, sitting herself comfortably on the dry dirt.

Clint followed her and planted himself on the ground, legs bent and folded.

Waiting for his reply, Millie bit into the peanut butter sandwich. It coated her mouth, making it slightly drier.

"Just my mom…you?"

"I have 10 brothers and sisters, 2 parents, 15 nephews and almost 18 nieces. Oh, and you, Vash, Meryl, and I guess Knives is too now!"

"Wow, that's a big family." Clint smiled.

Vash handed him a sandwich, and reluctantly picked one out for himself.

"There's more," Millie shared. "But they're on the other side now."

"Yeah, same here, my father passed away two years ago." Clint answered, staring down at his sandwich. "…it must be really nice to have such a big family…"

He felt slightly envious at the idea of having brothers and sisters to keep him company- a larger family meant more friends that were stuck with you no matter what…

"It's wonderful."

"I've always wished I had brothers and sisters…but I'm sure there are reasons…"

"What about you Vash?" Millie asked, pulling him into the conversation.

"Me? Well I… I guess I do have a big family, but Knives is my only blood relative, and a lot aren't here either…"

"Oh, they're here, Vash, we just can't see them." Millie answered like it was common knowledge, like she knew from the day she was born that something followed after death.

Vash bit into his sandwich, and when he had finished, went to his brother, who still lay motionless in his sleeping bag.

"Here Knives," Vash said, kneeling next to him. "You need to eat."

Knives never understood how Vash could be so kind after he had done everything to him. It was one of the reasons he hated him- he let himself be walked on for the sake of others, and Knives (being caught in between) didn't want to be a burden to him. He had always been a burden. It made him sick now, at least in this moment of life. He didn't want his help, but he needed it. Gosh, he wished he didn't need it. He wished he could carry his troubles alone.

Who was he now? His own tried to kill him- wants to kill him. Who is he? What is he doing? Where does he stand?

"I'm weak," Knives said in a raspy voice.

"That's no surprise in your condition." Vash answered.

"I couldn't shoot him," he admitted. "I couldn't do it. I'm weak, you've made me weak, and I couldn't shoot him…even when he was trying to kill me…"

Intently, Vash _listened._

"I've been a murderer lately," he looked away from Vash's crisp sober eyes, remembering his killing sprees in December. "Trying to find myself again. I thought it was easy, but I couldn't shoot that little girl…I helped her instead."

Vash captured the disappointment in Knives' face and voice. His stomach clenched at the image of his ill brother trying to murder a child. The seriousness in it was suddenly displayed in front of him with the disappointment found in Knives' voice… his brother was sick…he was _ill_…

"Something is broken inside me. I have no place." Knives said, eyes widening.

"You have a place here." Vash insisted, trying not to sound desperate.

"I don't belong here."

"The only thing holding you back is yourself."

"I don't know who I am."

"I think it's time you found out." Vash advised, handing him the sandwich.

He was about to leave, when Knives spoke again.

"Vash…? Can we go to Sunset city?"

Hesitating and resisting the temptation to ask questions, Vash studied Knives' eyes. Knives struggled to keep them calm and innocent.

"We'll see…" He answered.

"Meryl needs to go there anyway…that's what I heard…"

Vash didn't answer. Meryl had mention about returning home to see Charles and get ready for her wedding, and Sunset City was exactly where Bernardeli was located.

….

Buses had become a tradition when they traveled. Sunset City was rather large, with businesses on nearly every corner.

"Do you see him?" Millie asked Meryl as they searched out the window.

"Right there, right there!" Meryl pointed. "With the box in his hands!"

"And the brown hair?"

"Yeah, that's him." She answered happily. "Do I look okay?" She asked Millie.

"Beautiful!"

Vash watched Meryl fix her features from across the aisle, his head on the back of the seat in front of him and his arms over it.

Clint looked at Vash, and sighed.

When Meryl's eyes ran into Vash's, he quickly turned his head.

Meryl didn't want Vash to like her, it was all cruel, very disappointing, and made their friendship very uncomfortable.

Coming to a sudden halt, the bus let out a hiss as the doors opened.

Meryl and Millie jumped up so suddenly, it looked as if they had been sitting on tacks.

"Excuse me!" Meryl pardoned, trying to eagerly beat everyone out the door. She had managed to get very close until a large man with a mustache stepped in front of her. He was so big that he touched both sides of seats when standing in the aisle.

Sluggishly, Vash followed behind, hardly even picking up his feet from the ground, which were consequently making a shuffling sound. As he stepped off the bus, he regrettably rose his eyes to the man Meryl was forcing her way to.

Charles Glenning, handsome, tall, and slender, could be easily depicted as the best kept person for miles. He had honey-brown hair which was parted on the side in a straight line. His hair fell to the top of his ears in perfect alignment, and his eyes were immediately distracting, as they were a very rich emerald green and beaming.

"Meryl," he smiled, revealing his nearly pearly white teeth, it was a slight relief to see that they weren't perfectly straight (but close to it).

"Charles…" She mimicked, clearly thrilled to be standing in front of him again.

He leaned in for the kiss, and for a split second she was caught between two thoughts. Was it cruel in front of Vash? Or did he need to be slapped into the idea? But when she remembered how he had never pressed her, she bolted her arms around Charles' physique, and hugged him close.

"I missed you so much," she told him, breathing in his scent.

"Me too," he hugged her back.

Vash watched them hug, feeling slightly awkward as it always is when you're in company with two lovers falling over each other. He tried to find something interesting about the stop sign several yards away, but even the graffiti on it couldn't keep his mind occupied. Knives continued to watch them, looking bored, and slightly annoyed.

"Did you get my letters?" Meryl asked.

"Yes. All of them I think." He let go of her. "I bought you some chocolate." He held up the little red box that had been in his hand. "See?"

"Just what I need to get back to myself… it's been rough…"

"Are these your traveling partners?" Charles asked, beaming at everyone.

"Yeah." Meryl looked away from the box. "Millie, Knives, Clint, and, and Vash." She introduced.

After hearing his name, Vash felt he was forced to look back at  
Mr. Glenning, who was beginning to shake everyone's hand.

"It's nice to meet you." He said.

"Same here," Vash forced the words out as Charles' soft hand shook Vash's rough one.

"And welcome to Sunset City!" He put his arm around Meryl.

"Thank you," Millie smiled. "And it's nice to meet Meryl's fiancé."

"It's Charles Glenning by the way. So have you guys found a hotel yet? I don't know if Meryl's talked about it, but there are a few nice ones you might be interested in."

"Do you still have your house?" Millie asked Meryl.

"Been trying to keep it clean for her," Charles answered. "But I hardly have time to help keep mine clean."

"We can stay there." Millie suggested.

"Then we'll just need to find a place for the guys. I'd let you stay at my house if it wasn't so crowded, but we'll find something. That way you guys can take a break, you all look tired from the travel." Charles noted. "The Knock Inn is nice, and it almost always has openings."

He led them into the heart of the city, giving a little information here and there, and whispering to Meryl here and there. Vash deliberately fell to the tail end of the line with Knives to minimize the words of Charles Glenning's delighted voice.

"I thought you were Mr. Sentimental," Knives scoffed when Vash was next to him, sulking.

"I'm just tired," Vash said in a very unconvincing tone.

Knives studied him from the corner of his eye.

"What?"

"You're a terrible liar, Vash. I came back here to prevent my temper."

If possible, Vash felt even less spirited.

He watched Mr. Glenning's poppy walk provoked by his chipper slender legs; his arm propped around Meryl. Charles was just to perfect to be real, and by the looks of him so far, was the best pick for Meryl.

"We're in luck!" He cheered. "They have plenty of room," he told them after investigated the front desk. "I've heard this place is really nice, you like it don't you?"

It was impossible for them to answer because none of them had been inside a room yet.

"I know you'll like it, it has the essentials, and for a very good price," Charles continued.

"This sounds exciting!" Millie agreed, apparently Charles' good mood had increased Millie's.

"Oh joy." Knives said sardonically, but so quiet, only Vash and Clint heard.

"And Meryl's house isn't too far from here," Charles added.

"Charles, it's at least 10 blocks away!" Meryl corrected.

"So it's far…but not _too far_. Anyway, walking is good for you." He explained, and paused for a moment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anyone specifically, you know, just in general. It would be rather cocky if I meant it specifically."

"Thank you, Charles," Clint said.

"Yeah, it was nice meeting you, but you're probably tired. Knives, Clint, Vash- get some rest." Charles advised.

"We'll come over," Millie promised the obvious.

"Yeah," Charles agreed.

Meryl waved them a small goodbye, before awkwardly turning away with Charles' command.

….

_Thump_.

Knives, Clint, and Vash dropped their belongings on the carpet of the suite. The hotel _was_ comfy, it _did_ have the essentials _and_ it was a very reasonable price.

"Good riddance, I've had enough love to last a lifetime," Knives growled. "Surely you won't make me deal with _that_ all day long."

"You wanted to come to Sunset City, and here we are." Vash stated.

"But those two…"

"To be honest, I don't see what he has and you don't, Vash," Clint said.

"What?" Knives asked after sitting on the edge of a bed.

Vash felt Knives eyes wander to him.

"Oh…are you jealous, dear brother?" Knives asked with satisfaction, when Vash didn't answer he added. "He _is_ annoying with her."

"I don't think I really like him…" Clint voiced.

"The way he talks- eh!"

"I don't see anything wrong with him," Vash spoke. "We hardly even know him, he seems like a fine man to me. I just think he was excited today…I mean, he hasn't seen Meryl for a long time. He seems to treat her well."

They were words of truth, but did not sound like it when Vash said them.

"I think we should give him a chance." He continued.

Knives and Clint didn't answer him.

….

Creeping quietly as not wake the juvenile or Vash, Knives walked gently on the carpet. At half passed midnight, Knives slipped on his coat, pocketed his gun, and glided out the hotel door.

Once the door was shut softly, Clint sat up in bed and scrambled (as quietly as possible) for his shoes, coat and sunglasses. Then taking a deep breath, he pulled the door open and cautiously sprung into the dark after his suspect.

It had been days and still Knives had said nothing about his time at Delta, who he fought, and why. As much as the teen didn't want to think of it, it was something to take into account. He was the one who wanted to come here, so there must be something he had in mind to do. Something he was probably doing now; something that required sneaking out at 12:30 am.

Clint moved fast along the sidewalk, taking time to roll through his feet to keep his steps silent. Once he found Knives a good distance away, he stopped.

He continued to follow Knives, careful to keep a far distance, and out of the light.

'_The plants_,' Clint thought in dismay. 'Why is he going to the plants?'

Whatever the reason, it would not result with cotton candy fluff, Clint knew. But to find anything about his father's life…or death, was worth it.

Knives studied the glorious room with the plants.

Clint flattened himself against the door, holding his breath, but Knives' mind was so preoccupied, if Clint was out in the open he wouldn't have noticed.

Scanning the plants, Knives sensed the illness spreading in them. They were already infected.

"Mi-a-ow!"

Knives stared at the white haired and red-eyed cat. Chame was still here.

Filled with a sudden impulse, Knives disappeared from Clint's view.

Clint crept after him again, but paused to get a glimpse of the gorgeous plant that was now bound to destruction. The silver surface caught the light, and it broke his heart to know that soon it could be cracked, shattered, and completely demolished. It had been ages since he had been so close to one.

Holding his gun close to his body, Knives followed the cat towards and around another plant. He spotted the familiar figure of Chame, which the cat greeted by rubbing against his leg. Knives watched Chame inject some sort of pastel liquid through the plant's surface.

It was his chance. Knives could shoot him right now so easily. Chame hadn't even noticed him.

Knives brought his gun up to aim, when something jabbed his mind so sharply, that he staggered several steps back. His senses picked up something other than the poison breaching the plant.

Chame looked up.

It was plant power Knives sensed…behind him...slowly, he turned his head.

Clint, whose hands were on the silver orb, was shaking wildly. Never had his plant energy felt so pronounced to Knives; so alive.

The teen cried out, and it all looked so painful.

His knees buckled and he fell to the ground, breathing so hard, his chest hurt.

"Caught me red-handed, stranger," Chame smirked.

Knives redirected his eyes to him, still wondering what that idiot teenager was thinking following him out here. Whatever the case, he had keep Chame away from him, especially with that liquid.

"Mia-ow." The cat stared up from his master's legs.

"I can't believe you still have that thing," Knives sneered.

"Rade? He and Janell are one of the only good things from my past." Chame explained. "Is Knives going to accept my invitation?" He asked, putting the liquid away and rummaging through his pockets.

"I am Knives."

"You are nothing of the sort. Knives is a man that can kill me. Knives is a man that strikes terror, a man you can't defy; someone who's after Vash the Stampede happiness; a plant who owes a dead priest money," his voice rose. "A plant who killed a man name Chapel. A plant who doesn't believe in love. A plant who is afraid of a boy he called Chame, and murdered- destroyed- all he cared for! All but a white cat…The only similar trait is your fear of me."

"I'm not afraid of you, never was."

"Than why were you going to kill me?"

"I didn't need you."

"If you didn't need me, then why did you order for me in the first place!"

"I didn't need you, anymore…" Knives raised his gun. "I don't need you now."

"Stop bluffing," Chame demanded. "You won't kill me."

Knives stared into his cold gray eyes.

"And it would be embarrassing for me to kill you," Chame spoke softly. "It's been a pleasure, stranger." He tipped his hat, and then added, "I wouldn't stick around next week…take a vacation and I'll hopefully see Knives when you get back."

Again, Knives watched Chame walk away with simplicity, his albino cat slinking in his wake.

He let his arm drop, a mixture of frustration and shame developing in him, until his mind came quickly back to life with the sudden jar.

"Clint."

Slowly, he turned back to the juvenile, who was hunched over, still shaking. Debates flourished in his head of what to do, and when distance had decreased between them, Knives reach out his hand for Clint's shoulder. Just as his index finger was about to touch him, Clint turned to him sharply.

"You worked with him?" He half cried and half yelled.

His eyes were watering behind his sunglasses, and Knives noticed something distinctly odd about it.

"He killed my father and you're, you were-" Clint came to an abrupt stop, because he had just found himself staring down the barrel of a black gun.

"Get up," Knives ordered.

Because of either shock or disgust, Clint didn't move.

"GET UP!"

Glaring, Clint struggled to his feet.

"I'm not in lead with him," Knives told him. "I came hoping to head him off, but I was just a little too late…" He held his gun steady at Clint. "Just who the heck are you anyway? You didn't find us for shooting lessons, that's for sure. You're not like these plants," he glanced briefly at those infected, "and you're not like me either."

Clint didn't say anything.

"ANSWER ME!" Knives demanded.

Finding defeat when a gun was pointed at him, Clint reached for his sunglasses.

Knives gripped his gun, and watched intently.

"No, I'm not here for shooting lessons, and now that there is a gun to my head, guess I need to come clean."

With a swift tug, he removed his sunglasses.

….

"Hello?" Vash answered the door drowsily.

"Hey Vash," Charles smiled. He was with Meryl, and they both were ready for the day, showered, shampooed, dressed, and combed, while Vash was framed in the doorway in his pajamas.

"Oh, hey." Vash tried to act glad to see the handsome prince charming.

Meryl studied him. He only looked this way when he was worried. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah…it's great."

They heard footsteps.

Vash turned as Knives rushed by with a washcloth.

Feeling their eyes on him, Knives answered, "Clint isn't feeling well; got sick last night."

"Is he okay?" Meryl asked. "Is it from the traveling?"

"He'll be fine."

The problem with Knives' response was the different look in his eyes. Vash had never seen them look so sober, and he looked at him and Meryl directly in the eyes (specifically longer with Meryl)

"Can we see him?" Meryl asked suspiciously.

"Don't see why not…" He answered.

Vash followed behind Meryl and Charles to Clint's bedside.

Knives placed the wet rag on the teenager's forehead.

"He has a fever," he explained.

"Traveling is a torture, isn't it?" Meryl asked, smiling weakly.

"There are worse things." Clint answered in a scratchy voice.

"I don't like traveling either," Charles shared. "My cousin travels even more than Meryl does."

"What does he do?" Vash asked, trying to be friendly, but at the same time, wanting to know nothing of him (which he thought sounded rather selfish).

"He's a bounty hunter."

"What!" Vash popped like a balloon.

"Crazy, huh? Talk about living life on the edge. I don't know how he lives that way, I much rather live the quiet normal life, but he's always loved adventure."

"Is he going to the wedding!" Vash wailed.

"Well, of course."

Vash let out a cry of agony.

"No kidding, do you have any idea how awful it's going to be?" Charles asked.

"_Terrible_!" Vash clenched his hair.

"I mean, I love him to death, but he'll stand out and hog the crowd, who will be there for us, and tell us gut-busting stories that make me sick! If only he wasn't a bounty hunter, because he's such a great guy."

"I'm sure he is," Vash said through clenched teeth. "_Fantastic._"

"His name is Kushmen."

Color drained out of Vash's face. "Kushmen?"

"Have you heard of him?" Charles asked curiously.

"Isn't he like the third bounty hunter who has caught the most bounties?"

"I don't know," Charles admitted with his shining white teeth. "Like I pay attention to that stuff."

"Yeah," Vash laughed nervously. "How would you know? Living the quiet normal life?" He laughed some more.

Meryl blinked, she couldn't be sure, but she thought she sensed some jealousy in Vash's voice. She rarely heard him jealous.

Clint let out a cough.

"Vash, Meryl and I are going on a date tomorrow," Charles educated. "Want to double date with us?"

"But Vash can't ever get a date!" Meryl bounded.

"Gosh, Meryl" Charles frowned as she went red. "Don't you think that's a little harsh?"

She blushed more.

"I'm sure I can hook you up with someone."

Meryl watched him, her hands now over her mouth to keep her private thoughts inside.

"I shouldn't," he glanced at Clint.

"I'm sure your brother will look after Clint." He suggested. "What do you say?"

"I'm not sure if-"

"Oh come on, I know some pretty cute girls."

Vash looked up at Meryl, who stared back.

"We'll see you around 7:00 tomorrow then." Charles decided. "It will be fun. Wear a suit or something classy."

Privately, Meryl wondered if Vash even owned a suit.

"Just us?" Vash asked. "What if the girl doesn't want to go?" He suddenly felt even more self-conscious then even when Charles had knocked on his door. Meryl was right, he never really _could_ get a girl, and what if he made fool of himself in front of them?

"The one I'm thinking of loves blind dates."

"What if she already has plans?"

"Then you can go with Millie as friends or something like-"

"No." Vash answered flatly.

"You don't like Millie?"

"No, I like her, I just couldn't-" Vash was at a loss of words. He couldn't do that after Wolfwood… but he was relieved that Charles interrupted so he wouldn't have to further his search for words.

"Oh, I understand, more of one of those brother-sister friendships, huh? I know lots of people, I'll find someone." He promised.

Vash didn't know whether he found Charles' confidence relaxing or more worrisome, but either way, he would officially be double dating tomorrow evening.

Author's note:

I am rather fond of the next chapter- the date and Clint and Knives. Thanks for reading. Thank you more for reviewing. Oh, and don't worry, I won't leave Millie out of the story, she has her own moments later…


	9. A rock and hard place

Vash took a deep breath, studying himself in the mirror found in the hotel suite.

"It's for the better," he said out loud.

"What's for the better?" Knives appeared in the mirror.

"This date."

"I think it's a mistake."

"You think everything I do is a mistake." Vash reminded.

"No I don't; I think you wearing that red and silver tie instead of the green and orange tie, was a good choice."

Something was definitely different about Knives.

"Do you want me to stay and help you with Clint?" Vash asked. At first he had been worried about it, but now that Knives was acting so different…

"No, it's not that… He's feeling a lot better."

"Then wh-"

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"That will be them," Vash said.

With clammy hands, he made one last adjustment to his tie. He felt slightly like he was in a dream.

"Where are you guys going?" Knives asked as Vash brushed passed him.

"Masson, it's a restaurant I guess," he answered just before opening the door.

Oh, she was beautiful. Vash wondered why she had to look so gorgeous. Her hand and arms were covered with dazzling silk white gloves and her dress gently hugged her figure, swaying down to her feet. She was in high heels that were decorated with white straps overlapping each other in elegance. The loops in her hair were conveniently curled to shorten its length- just the length Vash, (who was still hesitant about her long hair) felt comfortable with.

"Looking sharp," Charles bared his sparkling teeth at Vash in such a way it was like a dog waiting to attack.

"Yeah, she does," Vash laughed nervously, imagining Meryl's name tattooed all over Charles' handsome face.

"Vash, I was talking about you," his smile faded.

"Yeah, but Meryl looks good too," he laughed a bit more, wondering if he was somehow going insane.

"We'll go pick up Vanessa, and then go to Masson, alright?" Charles said.

"Yeah, alright," he answered in a bit of a high pitched voice.

After watching them leave, Knives returned to Clint, who, to his surprise, was putting on his shoes.

"What are you doing?" Knives asked. "Get to bed you idiot, I'm supposed to be looking after you."

"If you're going to keep your promise, you'll just have to come with me." He insisted, and then let out another cough.

"Or you'll just have to stay here. Just where do you want to go?"

"I'm going to Masson." Clint answered simply.

After he finished tying his shoe, he reached for the door.

"Are you coming with me?"

Agitated, Knives put on his shoes and coat, and followed him.

….

Vash knocked on the door, his heart beating against his ribs.

What if she stood him up?

Finally when the door swung open, Vash found himself face to face with a woman who had strawberry blond hair and deep dark brown eyes.

"Vanessa?" Vash asked.

"You must be Vash," She beamed.

"Uh…yeah." He answered awkwardly.

"I'm Vanessa."

"It's nice to meet you," Vash answered politely, and then wondered what to do next.

"Are you going to escort me?" She asked.

"Oh, of course."

She took Vash's arm.

It was good for him; Meryl was engaged, he didn't have to worry about Knives interfering, and it should be fine…shouldn't it?

Then why did he feel wrong? Why did he feel afraid? Meryl moved on; he should respect that and do the same.

Charles and Meryl were waiting in the car for them. Charles had rented it for the night, which was saying something considering money was hard to come by. He drummed his fingers patiently on the steering wheel.

Peering out the window, Meryl asked, "He's escorting her?"

Charles brought his emerald eyes out the window as well. He gave a small smile.

"Well of course, Hun." He placed his hand over hers. "She's his date."

"I know but…"

"I think you're stereo-typing him too much."

'Easy for you to say,' Meryl thought. 'And…'

Vash opened the car door.

'…Opens the door for her.'

"Hi, Charles, Hi, Meryl!" Vanessa smiled once she was in the car.

"Hello," Charles replied happily.

….

Masson happened to be a very elegant restaurant. Anyone who ever went dressed up accordingly. The most charming thing about the restaurant was not the expensive food, but the environment. Sitting outside was one thing, but at Masson costumers were seated outside _with_ healthy green geoplants- one of the rarest forms of life on Gunsmoke.

….

"I can't believe I'm hiding in the bushes to spy on my brother with m-"

"Sh! They're getting out of the car!" Clint whispered. "Did you see that?" He asked in a hushed cry.

"I can't see anything with all these leaves and branches; since when can humans afford geoplants for decorations?"

Pulling his jacket closer around, Clint struggled to get a better view of the car as its occupants got out.

"Charles didn't even open the door for her!" Clint growled and then (keeping his eye on the car) added "the reason Masson is so formal and expensive is because they dine outside with geoplants, and- look there she is!"

They both leaned closer as Vanessa grabbed Vash's arm.

"She's not too bad…I guess…" Knives commented.

"Too bad! Knives! Vash likes Meryl. We're supposed to dislike his date and Charles, not egg-on the possibilities!" Clint chided.

….

It was awkward as they walked to the entrance, not because of the geoplants or the suit, or the rhythm of the place, but awkward because the woman Vash had had his eye on was walking ahead of him.

Her prince charming escorted her, whispering secrets he couldn't hear.

"Do you think Vash will like Vanessa?" Charles whispered to Meryl.

"What kind of girl is she?" Meryl whispered back, silently remembering the type of women he goggled at.

"Touchy-feely, sweet, but too sweet for some, a bit nosey, but she's just trying to find out who you are," he explained.

"Touchy-feely? Maybe he'll like her…"

"It doesn't really matter," Charles shrugged. "You're all that matters…"

He kissed her on the cheek.

….

"Wha!"

Knives covered Clint's mouth.

"Sh!" He warned before moving his hand away.

"Did you see that?" Clint asked with wide eyes. "He kissed her right in front of Vash! Cruel jerk!"

A sweat-drop was on Knives. "Maybe we should leave," he suggested.

"Are you kidding?"

"Well, _I'm_ leaving."

Knives started to crawl away.

"Oh my gosh!" Clint gasped.

"What? What is it?" Knives asked, hurrying back over.

"You know you're glued." Clint smiled as Knives returned.

"Why would I be glued?"

"Because," Clint scoffed, "Vash is on a date."

They watched them for a few more seconds before Clint started crawling along the bushes again.

"Where are we going now?" Knives asked, thinking suddenly about how idiotic this was, not to mention slightly embarrassing.

"To the tables. They're going to get a table, and then we won't be able to see them from here…"

….

It's awkward when her fiancé kisses her, and it's awkward when Vanessa moves her body closer…but tonight he would let Meryl go…he had to…

"Where are you from, Vash?" Vanessa asked.

"Nowhere and everywhere. I don't live anywhere, but I've been nearly everywhere." Vash answered.

"A wanderer? That sounds romantic."

"Does it?" Vash blinked. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to try to be romantic or not.

"Why do you wander?" She came closer.

He wanted her away, but at the same time, enjoyed her company.

"I'm…searching for love."

"Oh?"

He went a little red realizing his mistake, he hadn't meant personal love, but he didn't dare correct it.

They were led passed tables by a very slender and tall woman who had cherry red lipstick on. "I think I can find a place for you over here…" she told them.

With reverence, Vash stared at all the green surrounding them. Different shaped leaves covered trees and bushes, and each blade of grass poked up from the ground. He resisted the urge to touch them with his bare skin. He remembered, they ranged in textures from smooth, to rigid, some were creased, and others looked like they had healthy green veins spreading through them. But what he liked most of all about geoplants was the rhythm of life they produced.

….

"They're coming this way," Clint spoke.

The two couples were getting closer and closer, and Clint started getting worried.

"Where are they sitting?" He asked desperately. They were walking straight for them. "Oh great, they're sitting over here?"

"Sh!" Knives ordered yet again as they stopped at the table two feet away- a perfect view of their feet.

Clint and Knives watched Vash scoot the chair out for Vanessa and her feet appeared in front of the chair's legs.

Sighing within himself, Clint wondered if they could possibly remain hidden the whole dinner.

….

"Nice place, huh Vash?" Charles asked.

"Yeah, I had no idea they had such a thing."

"I love it!" Charles continued. "To be surrounded with all these living geoplants!"

Watching Vash seat himself, Meryl felt so confused. He had changed so much. It was cruel that he would go on a blind date so simply, when Meryl wanted so much to just be next him, regardless of his feelings… but he broke the dream. Sometimes when he looks at her now, it's like he's looking at Rem, he loved and lost Rem, but he pushed and left Meryl. He couldn't like her; he's dating and glad of Charles…

When Vash sat at the table he realized immediately there was going to be trouble. How many eating utensils did one person need? The table was littered with them- six per person and it also had two cups and three plates. This wasn't good.

He glanced sideways at Charles, it had sounded like he had been here before…

But he was looking at his menu now…

Vash pulled his out as well.

"These dishes are expensive," he heard Vanessa say.

He looked at the prices…they were expensive, but that's what he had expected, Masson had to pay for the care of these geoplants somehow…

By the time the waiter had come, they had decided what they wanted, and with a complete butler-ish attitude, the waiter took the menus.

"Vash? Do you have any family?" Vanessa asked.

"Oh…lots from all over." He answered vaguely.

"I thought you only had Clint and Knives." Charles said curiously.

"Knives is my only by blood, but I have lots I consider my family."

"Clint's not?"

"No, regardless of looks." Vash answered, mentally tired of a repetitive concept. "You can believe what you want," he added with a glance at Meryl. "But that's the truth."

"I only believe what I believe to be true," Charles smiled, his emerald eyes twinkling.

Thinking it was only polite, Vash asked, "what about you, Vanessa?"

"Most of my family lives in Parker."

Charles cornered him again. "Vash, what exactly do you do? Meryl hasn't said much."

Vash was about to answer when his hand (which had been on his lap) encountered something particularly gooey under the table.

"Well…" he started, trying to ignore the idea of chewed up gum suddenly becoming glued to his hand.

"He's searching for love," Vanessa announced.

Waving his hand under the table, Vash wondered if Charles would think it stupid or silly, but Meryl was the next to speak.

"The Mayfly of it actually," she corrected. She didn't like others portraying they knew more about him then they did.

"Searching for love? Sounds familiar, doesn't it, Hun?" He put his arm around Meryl.

"It's more of a public love of the Mayfly." Meryl added.

"Public or not, love it love."

Vash grabbed the napkin on his lap and tried to rid himself of the gum that was now turning into some sort of a spider web under the table. When he felt Vanessa's eyes on him, he asked, "Do you work?"

"It's nothing exciting, just an employee at the café," she went a little red. "It would be nice of you to stop by…"

Meryl couldn't believe this, it was ridiculous! Vanessa couldn't like Vash, no one could! She wasn't right for him…

The food came, and Vash was surprised to see yet _another_ plate being added to his collection. Vigorously, he tried to rub the gum off faster, but the napkin had become somehow tangled in the spider web. This was ridiculous!

"You're coming to the wedding, right?" Charles asked.

"Who?" Vash asked.

"Both of you."

"I'll be there," Vanessa promised. "I already have your present."

"Yeah…" Vash answered, trying to catch which fork Charles was using without making it obvious. His insides squirmed at the question.

Because his right hand was covered in gum under the table, Vash used his left had to grab the fork that was longer and beside his plate.

Meryl watched him suspiciously. Vash wasn't left-handed.

"Oh, yeah, Vash, you can come to my Bachelor party as well."

"Charles, that's your bestman's job," Meryl reminded.

"It's mine, I can invite who I want, can't I? Unless you don't want Vash, Knives and Clint to come…"

"You invited them too?" Vash asked.

"Just did."

"Clint can't go!" Meryl cried. "He's 14!"

"That's old enough, isn't it?" Charles asked.

"No!"

Vash blinked, taken aback by Meryl's strong will on the subject. Why did it matter?

….

Clint clamped his hand over his mouth as his eyes watered. He couldn't cough _here_ and _now_, but he couldn't stop himself either. Oh, it itched terribly. It was coming… he held his breath, but the urge in his throat wouldn't go away. After a snort and sputter, he pressed his hand harder against his lips.

He coughed slightly louder, and Knives rushed to help cover his mouth. If they were caught…what would they do? Clint could just see their surprised expression, and if Meryl was upset to see him go to a party, imagine how she would act if she saw him like _this_.

In hopes to silence his urge to cough, he snorted again, and desperately, Knives stuck his whole hand in Clint's mouth.

….

"But he's a bachelor." Charles pointed out.

"And he should be at 14. Vash?"

"He's your fiancé," Vash said nervously.

"Not Charles! Clint's your responsibility so you have to decide," Meryl told him, agitated. "And if you're wise, you'll choose what's better for him, instead of what you want. It's time you took some parenting over him."

Vash stared back, dumbstruck.

"Well?" Meryl pressed.

"I'm not his father!"

"But he looks to you as one! It's obvious he's replacing his dead father with you!"

….

A sweat-drop was on Knives as he pulled his hand free. Slobber dripped off, and mind you, that wasn't all…

/You owe me big time for _this_/ Knives wiped it on his pants.

Clint put his hand behind his head.

/There's a reason sick kids stay home/ Knives grumbled.

….

"…He looks up to you whether you realize it or not, and while he's traveling with you, he _is_ your son! Clint's _your_ responsibility, and he's just a kid!" Meryl finished with a big breath.

"Meryl?" Charles asked cautiously placing his hand over hers.

She looked away from him, slightly embarrassed.

"If it bothers you that much, I won't. I don't want to do anything to upset you; I always want you to be happy." He told her.

It wasn't the bachelor party. It was everything- everything to do with Vash. It was him dating, his eyes, his feeling contrary to his actions, his responsibilities; it was everything about him since the moment he told her "don't waste your time on me," since he made her cry, since he made her leave him.

"It's up to Vash," she answered.

"Well, it's not for a while, don't let it be a hassle," Charles suggested. "I'm sure we'll have plenty of other times to be around each other without a bachelor party. How long will you be here?" He asked Vash.

"I'm not sure," he answered, after taking a sip of water.

"I hope it's for a while," Vanessa spoke.

"Me too," Charles agreed. "I like to get to know people, especially friends of Meryl."

They finished their meal with small conversation (in which Meryl took little part in) containing information about one another.

"Vash," Vanessa addressed, once the bill was expensively paid. "I don't live far from here…would you mind walking me home instead of driving?" She asked timidly.

Finally freeing his hand enough to be brought out of the web of gum, Vash agreed, because on a nice date, that was the polite answer. Maybe he did mind, but he didn't think on it.

They stood up, and after a pause, Charles broke the silence.

"We'll see you two later," he winked, before addressing Meryl. "Hun, want to come over?"

Vash lingered for a moment, before Vanessa gave him a hesitant look.

….

While Clint dashed along the bushes, Knives asked if he intended to keep following them. Once taking a parallel left turn like Vash and Vanessa, he got his answer.

"This kid is going to kill us all," Knives rolled his eyes.

Following Vash was a mistake, but at least at Masson they had had some kind of coverage, it would be slightly trickier now…

….

Walking along side Vanessa, Vash noticed her shiver slightly.

"Can I use your jacket?" She asked.

"Oh, sure…yeah…" He answered, coming to his senses. He slipped it off, and helped her put it on. It was of course too big for her, and the sleeves sloped down passed her hands to ensure even more warmth. No problem occurred until Vash felt a little tug as he moved his hand. He still had gum on it. His hand would be stuck to Vanessa's shoulder until the jacket came off.

"Vash, have you ever been in love?" Vanessa asked, resting her head on him.

"Yes," he answered truthfully. "But I couldn't, and now I'm afraid it's too late. I have to let it go…"

"You have such an exciting life…"

"If I had it my way, it would be the dullest one."

"Trust me," Vanessa sighed. "It's boring."

"Trust _me_. It would be nice to be bored for once."

It was silent for a while.

"That place always makes me want to sing," Vanessa laughed a little. "It's really beautiful."

"_Sound of Life_? Do you know that song?"

"I don't think so."

"I'll have to teach it to you," Vash decided, some sort of excitement in his voice. Rem always wanted to sing around geoplants too, he remembered.

"So… on the first evening a pebble.

From somewhere out of no where

Drops upon my dreaming world…"

….

"He's teaching her his song?" Clint asked in disgust. "What's wrong with him?"

He let out another scratchy cough.

"Don't even start," Knives grumbled.

Regaining himself quickly, Clint continued to lead Knives along the homes, following Vash, who repeated Rem's song with respect.

….

Slowly turning up a driveway, Vash remembered the small little dust-colored house from earlier that day. It had window shutters, and he noticed one window was expressing a large amount of light.

"Do you live here all alone?" He asked, staring at the window.

"No, my older brother lives with me."

"Oh…sounds fun."

"Yeah, I guess," She answered as they came to an abrupt stop in front of the white door Vash had knocked on only hours ago.

She faced him, so close, he could see her few freckles perfectly, and noticed her strawberry blond hair catching the moonlight.

"But he's not has fun as tonight was." She smiled bashfully, and looked up into his sea-green eyes. "Thanks."

"Thanks for going with me." Vash said, straining to stare into her dark eyes, he meant it, but he wasn't sure exactly how thankful he was.

Sensing it was time to say goodbye, he wondered what to do next.

"Could I have my jacket back?" He asked.

Vanessa slipped it off.

After he took it back, she continued to stare at him.

It was time to say goodbye… but his heart boomed against his bosom as she closed in on him. Eyes shutting and head tilting, she was coming closer until Vash snapped his eyes shut and then felt her lips against his in a kiss.

This looks almost demented at first, until someone takes a second glance. Meryl _was_ getting married, and Vash had to start letting go.

Afterwards, Vanessa blushed scarlet and jumped to a farewell. "Goodnight, Vash!" She said, and quickly opened and shut the door of her house.

Vash watched her go, his emotions in neutral.

….

Heartbroken, Clint watched in silence.

Knives waited for the remark- the cry "that disgusting woman! Who does she think she it!"…but it never came.

"Clint?" He paused. "Come one, we better get back to the suite."

He pulled him away from the scene in a fast pace.

….

He had to let her go… She was engaged…

"_Clint's your responsibility, so you have to decide, and if you're wise, you would choose what's better for him, instead of what you want!"_

Vash remembered the outline, the eyes of Meryl, she _was_ different now, but she was still right. Dragging people he liked into his mess had become a habit; it started with the insurance girls. It's the selfish part of him…

_"…Choose what's better for him…"_

Life is lonely without companionship…

_"Vash, we'll figure this out, I promise,"_ she had said.

_"I wish I could, but I can't, I'm not cut out for it anymore."_ She had said moments later.

_"Someone his age shouldn't be involved with these matters."_

"Clint Stryfe." Vash said out loud.

He liked waffles with powdered sugar, but didn't like donuts. He made Vash feel important; in the little way. Vash could get him killed in all this, and then he'd never see him again. No temporary father would do that. _He had to go home._

….

Back in the car, Charles appeared quite delighted with himself.

"I've never seen Vanessa so happy," He said. "Well..." he thought back "…on a date," he added. "She really liked Vash."

Meryl looked out of the car window. "Do you need help with dinner for the kids?" She asked, changing the subject.

"No, I fed them before I left. You're coming over right? Miles wants to see you."

Meryl smiled at the name. Miles was one of Charles' younger brothers that he worked so hard for, very sweet, along with the rest of them. "I'll come over, who's watching them tonight?"

"Katharine."

"Millie should meet them, she likes kids." Meryl shared.

Charles parked the car in front of his little house.

"Aren't you going to return the car?" Meryl asked.

"I'll do it later tonight," he decided as they both got out of it.

"Charles!"

Meryl looked up just in time to see four youngsters running pell-mell for them. She gave a small smile as they surrounded their brother.

"How was the date?" The oldest asked.

"Did you kiss her?" Another asked.

"Ewe, gross!"

"Not on a double date," Charles answered.

"Meryl!" Miles cried.

Smiling, she immediately became the center of attention.

"Are you going to be our sister soon?"

"Soon enough," she answered.

….

Vash walked in the door of the suite, and was surprised to see Knives and Clint sitting on the couch, waiting for him.

He blinked, they didn't look…well…_cheerful_.

Heart pounding, Clint stood up.

Apart from his mingled sadness, Vash sensed something wrong.

"You kissed her!" Clint accused.

Before Vash could ask how he knew, he realized something very different about Clint; something so strong he could nearly taste it. _A plant?_ But Clint couldn't be…he… Vash was speechless.

"What about Meryl? Don't you love her?" He half yelled it with distress. "Why did you kiss her?"

Somehow within these few seconds, Vash found his voice. "Clint, you need to stop playing cupid, she's _engaged_!" Vash didn't mean the words to come out so sharp, he didn't realize he was so agitated about it.

"But you love her!"

"I can't go chasing taken women, it's wrong, and she- she doesn't even know who _she_ is anymore!"

"Help her!" Clint ordered, obviously not satisfied with his response.

"I've tried!" Vash said, agitated, he didn't want to hear it. "It's time to let her go, she has a life. It's not my place. How can I love someone who gets so confused with me? She's lost herself."

"Help her! Love her!" Clint said again, more hurt than anger now. "You have to love her."

"It would be one sided and pointless," Vash said quieter.

"You don't understand!" Clint stepped closer, tears seeping out from behind his sunglasses. But they were different; instead of just water, they were made of something silver-white, and were shining immensely- not from reflecting light, but the glow seemed to come from inside the tear itself. They didn't leave a clear trail down his cheeks, but left the glowing silver, slightly more transparent. Vash had never before encountered anything like this.

The plant in this teenager was so strong; he wondered how he hadn't ever sensed it before. He was no plant Vash had ever come across…

Sunglasses fogging up, Clint's vision blurred.

"Help me understand," Vash said, calm and gentle now. What had made Clint so emotional?

Knives watched Vash intently- it was coming…

"Vash, I am your son." Clint spoke.

"But that's…impossible, Clint," Vash said, racking his brain. He tried to find another meaning in Clint's words. "I've never- not by blood."

"By blood," Knives answered eagerly.

"You said I wasn't your father; your father is dead." Vash fumbled.

"I told you he was lying," Knives was clearly eating it up.

"No…" Vash's eyes slightly narrowed. "You made his death so real."

"I lied about you being my father for everyone's sake, but…everything else is true. My dad is dead."

"Then you were adopted? Your adopted dad…"

Clint shook his head, wiping tears from his cheek, smearing silver on the back on his hand. "Vash, _you're_ dead."

"I'm very much alive, Clint."

"Vash," Knives addressed. "This kid is your kid, and you're dead, because Clint's from the future!" He exclaimed.

Clint removed his sunglasses to rub his eyes.

Hearing this 14 year old had gone through time, was his son, _and_ he was dead in his time, was like hearing someone say Millie was a llama in disguise. It was completely unbelievable… until Vash remembered his life story.

When Clint opened his eyes, Vash's bones went cold. They were white, all white, and Vash could see no pupil, in fact, and there wasn't any way of telling if Clint could even see.

"Your eyes…" Vash whispered, making a mental note that Clint definitely didn't wear sunglasses just to be a teenager. "How are you from the future?" He asked.

Clint shook his head. "I'm not sure…something to do with the plants, they react odd with me…something strange happened, but I've done something terrible…"

Vash had never seen Clint look so sad.

"Nothing is the same, nothing is right!" He said louder. "My mom hasn't ever said anything about a man named Charles. Me being here- or whatever has happened- has changed everything! Once I realized where I was, I wanted to change your death, but now I must have ruined everything- everything is wrong…and…I'm afraid, Vash."

It was a hard concept, but Clint was crying, and Vash couldn't stand it. He scooped the teen in his arms, and held him close in a hug.

"I'm so afraid," he whispered. "You and Meryl are supposed to be together."

"Sh…" Vash hushed as Clint cried. "It's going to be okay."

Maybe it was this instinct…or the will to stop his crying that made him say it, because he didn't know if it would be okay, he didn't even understand 90 of it.

Author's note:

Well?


	10. Clint

Midnight was nearing when Meryl pushed open her front door, and although it felt like it had been a very long night, she was demonstrating a mellow joyful attitude. She was slightly taken aback to find Millie still awake at the kitchen table. After glancing at her, she realized it was time for Millie's monthly letter- she would be up late again.

"You're back Meryl," she beamed, and let her pencil drop onto the table, "how was the date?"

The very second Millie's words had reached Meryl's ears she found it hard to believe she had been happy at all. It flooded back into her mind like raging waters freed by a broken dam.

Millie took no notice of Meryl's expression that had just been wiped clean of cheerfulness.

"I went to visit Clint and Knives, but no one was there." Millie said when Meryl didn't answer.

Stiffly, Meryl seated herself at the table.

"Do you know where they were?" Millie asked, picking up her pencil again.

"They weren't in the suite?" Meryl asked, pulling herself out of her reverie.

"Not a soul."

"That's odd… are you sure you had the right suite?"

"#12, right?"

"I think so…or…" Meryl hesitated.

"So then I went to the office, and they gave us paperwork." Millie pointed to the counter where several towers of paper were stacked up dangerously.

"Do you think they're okay?" Meryl asked.

"The chief said business had been very-"

"No, not the work, Clint… there was no answer?"

Millie shook her head.

"But he's sick… and then left alone with Knives. Doesn't that worry you?"

"Not if Vash was okay with it?"

"That name again," Meryl sighed. "Well, he's not my responsibility- neither of them are- thank goodness."

"Huh?" Millie blinked.

"Nothing…it's just…never mind. It's late. I'm going to bed."

She had been planning to go to bed when she left the kitchen, but after she had changed into her night gown, washed her face, and brushed her teeth, she encountered a possession that began to push the idea away. Sticking about an inch out of her dresser drawer was a small black book. It caught her eyes just as she was climbing into bed.

Her hands let go of the covers, and she wandered over to it. Hesitating, she pulled the drawer out to its full extent, and emptied it of the notebook.

She almost smiled at it, until another emotion leaked into her, and she found that she would quite like to throw it instead. Nevertheless, she let her hand open it to the front page.

_Property of:_

_Meryl Stryfe_

It contained nothing essential for work, but everything to do with it.

She flipped through the pages with caution, and then snapped it shut. She put it down, picked it up, put it down again, took a step away and turned her back on it. She took another step toward her bed, froze, whipped around and snatched it up again.

_I know I've written this before, but I write it again. Vash isn't who he seems. I still haven't pin-pointed him- who he is. I no longer wonder what he is, but more of who he is._

_It's funny how your mind plays tricks, how it judges someone from a name. Vash is nothing of the sort my mind had assumed, and when I finally understood his idiotic personality, he contradicted it…like last night…he's not just a broomhead, but even after last night, I know he's not a killer, which does make me wonder if he really is a broomhead…am I making any sense?_

_You should have seen him tonight, Millie and I hadn't meant to walk in on him, but we heard a crash, and he didn't answer._

_It was a little startling to see him with lounging pants on, and a towel in his hands, but almost laughable… and yet very…very sad. His body is weathered, he's covered in scars. I never imagined someone could have so many…metal plates and dents in him…rusted like an old antique._

_We sat down and talked with him. He explained he found his state rather embarrassing, something he didn't want women to see. He was afraid they would "run away."_

_I didn't think of it at the moment, but it's very ironic for his broomhead side; the side that strangles me as he chases other women- women who probably would run away. I guess this "womanizer" isn't what he's cracked up to be._

Meryl's hand fell limp.

Vash had told her a while ago that he had thought she knew him better. Clint couldn't possibly be his son… that is if his fear of rejection was so strong he never got over it. As he had said, four years wasn't very long…

Meryl _had_ known him better…but she had somehow forgotten him.

….

It was very late, and Clint had fallen asleep. Vash and Knives, on the other hand, were still wide awake. Knives had situated himself with a cup of icy water and a wall to lean against, and Vash had seated himself in an armchair across from him.

"So, now what are you going to do, Mr. Outlaw?" Knives asked, sipping on some water and inspecting Vash curiously.

Vash was in deep thought. His palm was resting near his temple, and his fingers disappeared into his golden hair.

"It's a hard concept to believe," Knives commented, trying to provoke his brother's feelings.

"I've come to realize some things are too hard to believe; I've also realized that many situations require a different point of view. Maybe it's not impossible, it just need to be looked at in a different perspective."

Knives smirked. "So what will you do?"

Vash was quiet before replying. "I'm not sure anymore. Nothing tonight. I still don't know enough to come up with an idea."

"What more do you need to know?" Knives gave a mischievous smile.

"What do you mean?" Vash asked slowly.

"I got it all the other night. It's sometimes easier to talk all the way through something with someone you don't like." Knives shared, and then glanced at the middle of Vash's suit, which was covered in silver. He gave a small laugh, a sound Vash hadn't heard innocently from him in weeks. "That kid is almost as sentimental as you."

"He told you the other night?" Vash asked.

"I made him, but I won't tell you how now that you're his father. Guess I have to be nice to him." Knives decided, and took another sip from his water. "He has a lot of problems though… he doesn't get sick from traveling, it's from extreme emotion or energy use, and only at these times can we sense the plant in him."

"Extreme emotion?" Vash asked.

"Being extremely afraid, sad, mad, confused, etc. You never noticed the first time- in those defense automobiles- because you were asleep, and all the other times I think your mind was too busy- we all woke up sensing the plants' death in Delta. Being able to sense it in him is a slight after effect, unless it's energy, then it's current _and_ after. That's what his medication is for, to lower his sense and help his human illness." Knives took another sip of water. "He gets sicker the more energy or emotion he uses or has. But his eyes…my guess is it has something to do with genetics…possibly how human and plant may results together, I'm not sure."

Vash suddenly felt terrible. "Maybe it was wrong. Living like that isn't really living."

"And you're one to decide what life is worth living and what isn't?" Knives raised an eyebrow. "Then I should have killed you? Surely yours is the one least worth living."

"I didn't mean it like that," Vash sighed.

"But perhaps that is why you and the insurance girl didn't have anymore kids. He's an only child."

Meryl entered his mind again, and he felt worse. She was engaged, what in the world was _he_ supposed to do?

"I don't like to hear it," he said. "And I don't like thinking this way… Meryl loves Charles…"

"You better get used to it. Clint's yours and Meryl's son."

"But we haven't even been on a date."

"Good, we're ahead of it then!"

Vash went quiet.

Knives placed his index finger and thumb on the bottom of his chin. "Then again, maybe you weren't dating at all…" He said thoughtfully.

"What!" Vash flushed red. "What are you saying?"

Knives pondered. "Maybe she was drunk…"

"I've never seen Meryl drink," Vash went even redder.

"Hmm…"

"Kah! Knives! I would never- not to her! That would really be terrible."

"Okay, let's think of the consequences… Clint could die. He would have never been born, so he wouldn't exist, or his family won't remember him- in the least. But hey, he's not my kid, he's your trouble. You decide."

Knives turned to leave.

"Knives."

He stopped.

"I understand…but I'm pretty sure Clint's dad didn't stoop that low; he wouldn't now… How would Clint feel? Meryl loves Charles…I couldn't possibly do that to someone I love."

"So you do love her?" Knives turned around. "I mean, really love her, Vash?"

"Yes…but she's two-faced now…"

"Ha."

"I have for a long time," Vash admitted.

….

Meryl read on through the night. She had read this notebook various times, when she had missed the outlaw…but now as she read, she realized so much of him was missing in her memory.

It was well passed midnight, and she flipped on-ward; evaluating every sentence.

….

"So you're a fool?" Knives smirked again.

"If that's what you call a lover."

"You know what Vash? Believe what you wish, I don't care much at this point. But I am also two faced." Knives studied him, and finally let his conscious take in for a short moment that maybe he didn't really want Vash to die anymore. "Goodnight…if that's what you please."

"How about 'good morning'? I think I've already had a stressful night."

"Get some sleep," Knives advised, and departed for his own bed.

….

Vash tried to sort his circumstances out in his head as he lay awake. He wondered what it would be like if he was married to the woman he loved and had a son; he wondered if he had missed his opportunity when he had asked Meryl and Millie to leave him. But it was all he ever wanted….and to settle down; surely he had settled down, at least for a little while.

How long was he with them? He thought he remembered Clint saying his father had died not too long ago. What had killed him? He didn't think he wanted to live forever, but he was sure he wouldn't have wanted to die then…was it sudden? Long? Painful? Peaceful? Lonely?

He shivered.

It sounded like he had gotten everything he ever wanted, and left it all. If it was for their sake, their safety, he didn't mind as much. It must be so nice to relax and be in love.

…

Clint's mind weaved in and out of a restless sleep. Flashbacks tormented him in his dreams. He visited familiar places and times that now felt far away. He woke up on several occasions, and forced a number of white pills down his throat. But his dreams and ponderings battered in his mind until each pill lasted only halves of hours. The scenes were short at first- he was walking to school, sitting on his bed in boredom, and opening a closet that contained a large redcoat. Steadily they grew longer, and then he was helping with dinner, followed by a memory of him sitting on a bed, listening to his father coughing himself hoarse. His mother was talking to him, and he felt dreadful. _He was dying…my dad is dying. That's why he's coughing, that's why he seldom ran, and that's why he was always bundled up in blanket. Mom, when is he going to die?_

_

* * *

_  
I had known my father was dying for nearly half my life. My mom and I didn't know when, but days turned into months, months to years, and he slowly got sicker and sicker. Eventually we wondered how much worse it could get…knew it was coming soon. He had become so ill that he couldn't even get out of bed without help.

I remember the day he died so well, but when I somehow relive it, it feels almost dream like from all the emotion.

I know I was lucky, but I couldn't help the fact I hated school. It wasn't so much the _school_, but the _people_ that bother me. I blew up on them sometimes, but I tried to do what my parents taught me; it was really really hard sometimes.

Like so many days, I came home upset and bitter. I didn't mean to lay it on my mom, but my parents always encouraged me to be myself and not to put on an act or some sort of mask. So, I complained to my mom about Richard, and everyone else that bothered me about my "_individuality_".

It was that day I realized none of it mattered. When life is stripped raw, people realize most of what they do everyday doesn't matter. My life was stripped raw that day.

"I'm sorry about your day," My mother told me with sympathy.

"I try to ignore it, but it's _hard_." I whined.

"I understand," she told me. "But don't listen to them, it doesn't matter what they say. They don't understand."

"How's dad today?" I asked cautiously, half-looking for a new topic.

More happiness drained from my mom, so much that it looked like her hair was drooping.

"Not good?" I asked.

"No, Clint, not good at all." She replied.

"That's just because he hasn't seen his son yet today."

She smiled weakly.

I turned to leave.

"Clint."

"Yeah mom?" I turned to face her again.

All the sparkle in her eyes had disappeared and had been replaced with gloss.

"He's lived longer then expected…I think very soon now." Her voice shook as she said it.

I frowned.

She wiped her eyes.

I looked away.

"Don't make me cry before I say goodbye," I told her, and left her in the kitchen, trying to keep my guts inside myself.

Apart from what I had said, I was already crying by the time I reached their room; leaving an ugly trail of silver behind me.

I pushed the door open.

Ever since I was young I never bothered trying to hide the fact I was crying. Not only did my eyes become red and puffy, but my tears were a mess, and it was impossible to wipe them away and leave no residue behind.

When I saw my father slightly propped up in bed, I found I couldn't say anything. He looked deathly. Even though he ate often, he was skinny and gaunt. His cheek bones poked out, his eyes were bloodshot and beginning to sink into his skull, his skin was pasty, and his hair flopped over.

"Clint…"

His shaking arm and hand reached my cheek and rubbed away the tears. We both knew it was pointless because it only made silver smears on my face.

"Angel tears for me." He said, and pulled his shaking arm down.

More tears came, and then all at once I exploded.

"I don't want you to die!" I sobbed into my hand.

My father feebly moved my hands from my face.

"Don't hide your face now."

"But what will I do when you're gone?" I asked, hot tears slipping out of my white eyes.

"You keep on living, do what you do everyday. Don't let me stop you."

"…that's…hard…"

"And it will be…it will be difficult, but you know what? You won't be given anything you can't handle in life."

"But you were."

"No…" His deep-set aqua eyes looked away. "I think I can handle this… I got Meryl and you. I got to settle down, and of course if I had had it my way, I would stay- it's not fair to leave you two alone."

"Nothing it fair."

"It's not fair to your mom; it's not fair to you. But I need you to keep on living, to continue my life."

The fact he was talking about it made it so much worse, it made it so real to me. Every afternoon we avoided the subject, we would talk about anything but his future death…today was different.

"I would say I love you, but you already know that."

"Vash?"

I turned around. I hadn't even noticed my mother had come in. She looked exactly how I felt: awful.

I moved away from the bedside to the window. Children were playing across the street; children who didn't have fathers dying.

I could hear them talking. My father was thanking her for everything. He was always so grateful to her when they weren't bickering or teasing with each other. I could hear her crying; I could even see it out of my peripheral vision.

She kissed him.

Even as a preteen, it didn't bother me- strange, I know, but they loved each other. Even when I didn't understand, or care for girls, it comforted me in a way. At least their marriage was well, which was a blessing in itself in this world.

"I'm sorry to leave you."

"Don't be, I made my decision when I said I would marry you."

"…There is still so much to do…"

"And you still put the weight of the world on your shoulders, Vash."

My mom and I sat on his bed for along time, just talking as my father tried to bring back a cheerful tone for us. I pretended to feel a little better, although nothing could comfort me when he looked this way. All his strength was missing.

It was said he tried to ignore it, fight it, and find a cure for it. The disease was eating him alive. But I still had a sliver of hope that my uncle would burst through the door with the cure. He had been looking for it…but the moment didn't come, and hope died completely when he let out his last breath.

I hugged my mom.

And that day my world lost someone who was a hero, a maryter, a gunman, a husband, and my father.

….

"I'm sorry about your father," my uncle told me.

I was wallowing in my bed. It was obvious I hadn't been to school. I didn't care. I felt like I didn't care about anything. It seemed all was dead to me, and that the world had stopped just for me to suffer sickness and depression. It felt literally like someone had stabbed me in my heart and removed a chunk of it.

I continued to lie on my stomach. I didn't even bother to look at my uncle.

When I felt the end of my bed sink under his weight and heard the slight ruffle of him sitting there, I felt even more resentment towards him.

"This isn't the karma I've been taught," he said it to himself. "I'm the one who should have been infected with it."

My uncle Knives was normally interesting to me, so different from my father…but I didn't care now.

"I don't think I believe in karma anymore."

I wondered why he was talking about karma.

"You shouldn't dwell, it's not healthy for you."

"My dad's dead, and you're telling me not to dwell?" I asked bitterly. "I thought you could relate, after all, he was your brother. I thought you missed his funeral because of bad luck, but I found out you were just in town. I went, and I've been throwing up."

He didn't say a word.

"Then you come here and tell about karma," I said louder. "Don't you understand your brother's dead?"

I turned sharply to him. I wanted to see emotion in his face, but there was none.

"Say something!" I ordered.

"Vash has been dying for nearly 14 years. He was dying before he had you, before he was even married." He answered calmly.

"So. Doesn't change the fact that he's dead." I said bitterly. "I thought you were looking for a cure."

"There is no cure, not for people like me and him. That's why it was specifically made for me and him."

I hated the answer; I thought about how much I hated if all during the gap of speech.

After along time, Knives said "It's unlike me, but if no one is going to tell you…" he paused for a breath. "He's not completely gone. You're his son, a part of him floods through your veins."

I was very disappointed in his words, words that I had heard in many stories…books…overrated words; words I already knew. It was more obvious to me than anyone. It's obvious I have his blood.

Knives stood up.

I heard the sound of pills falling onto my desk from his hand, but didn't bother to look.

"I though you were running out, so I came to bring you more."

It was the first time I didn't thank him. He put a lot of work and time into making those pills for me, but I let him leave without receiving anything in return.

I stared at the pile of white pills on the desk. I felt so awful, it was amazing how those pills could make me feel so much better.

'Why didn't he find a cure!' I though angrily. 'How could he not even care?' I rolled over on my bed. 'He's his brother! What kind of man raves about karma and proves emotionless about dad's death?'

I vegetated for days, wallowing in my own emotions. Visitors came and left, but I seldom spoke. I hadn't been to school for nearly a month, and no one missed me.

….

"I never thought I would see my brother's son be so selfish."

I wanted to tell Uncle Knives to go away. He only spoke in fragments that I didn't understand.

"Still pitying yourself?" He asked.

"Go away!"

He shrugged casually. "As you wish, but maybe you should remember you're not the only person to care for Vash. Even his enemies loved him."

He was leaving when I bellowed. "If that was true, he wouldn't be dead."

Knives stopped. "If it wasn't, he would have died long ago. He wouldn't have had you."

"Maybe that would have been better," I answered coldly.

He whirled around with some unspoken power, and I felt immediately inferior.

"Don't say that!"

"Maybe it's true," I raised my voice in bravery. "Then I wouldn't ever have to experience _this!_"

He shot me a cold glare. "Don't ever say," he ordered in a tense, but hushed voice. "You have not experienced enough to know what is hard and what is _too hard_."

"Please leave."

"Stop being selfish."

"Go away!" I yelled.

Finally he obeyed.

Who was he to know what selfishness was when he didn't even go to the funeral?

Within moments I wished I hadn't told him to leave, because I was left so alone again.

Then as if someone had heard my thought, my mother came in.

"Clint? How are you doing?"

I sneezed in reply.

"Do you still have a sore throat?" She asked.

I nodded.

"Then maybe you shouldn't yell so much…" She gave me a smile that melted most all my anger.

"Mom, why doesn't Uncle Knives care dad is gone?" I asked.

"Doesn't care?" She repeated, sitting down next to me. "Clint, he cares very much… maybe even more than you or I."

"Then why wasn't he at his funeral?" I asked. "If he really cared he would have been there, and he would talk about him instead of useless garbage."

"He has a different way of showing he cares."

"I don't understand."

"Maybe he doesn't do some things, because he does care, and it hurts too much."

It still didn't have much sense.

"I need you to be very kind to him; he'll be staying here for while."

"He's going to stay here?" I repeated with disappointment.

"He hates hotel and motels, and can't stand them any longer; he'll be a big help for us."

"Why did dad leave us here?" I asked. "How could he just leave us like this?"

"He didn't _just leave us_. We knew about it, and planned for it for a long time. He lives in you nonetheless."

Those stupid words again.

"Don't be so angry. You've got to go back to school," she told me, "you're already so behind."

School. I didn't ever want to go back.

"You look so much like him." She beamed until she couldn't take the thought any longer. Her husband was dead.

I felt so many emotions. I couldn't distinguish whether I was collecting more of them, or if I was combining them into one big mess.

"Mom? How are you?" I asked. "And don't lie."

"I'll be okay," she looked at me. "Because he gave me you."

…

Clint woke up coughing. His head felt like it had been split in two and was burning at the stake. He couldn't remember feeling this disastrous for a long time. And then all at once he suddenly remembered why.

What in the world was Vash going to do?


	11. Knives, daggers, and cake

"Vash! Vash! Are you in there?" Meryl called through the suite door. She knocked on it again.

Finally, the door swung open.

"Is Clint okay?" Meryl asked Vash, who was now staring at her.

"I came over last night, and no one was home," Millie explained.

Vash looked into Meryl's violet eyes. It was awkward for him to look at her… uncomfortable even. It dampened Vash to realize how peculiar he felt.

"Vash?" Meryl asked curiously, wondering why he was just staring at her.

"Weren't here?" He asked.

"I came to visit them while Meryl was on her date," Millie continued.

"Oh, yeah…they weren't here." Vash concluded.

"That's why they didn't answer," Millie said thoughtfully.

"Well we know that!" Meryl growled. "Clint was gone with Knives and-"

"Mother's intuition?" Knives voice issued quietly behind Vash, and to Vash's relief, Meryl was too busy talking to hear.

"…oh, it doesn't matter; is he okay?"

"Clint is still sick," Knives said.

"Vash, are you okay? You don't look so good." Millie pointed out.

"I had a late night," he explained.

"Did you have a nice date?"

"What? Oh, I guess."

"Why don't you invite them in?" Knives asked his brother. "It's rude to leave them standing."

Meryl didn't like Knives' extra chipper character. It was disturbing to her, and suspicious.

"You gals want to sit?" Vash asked.

He moved aside to let them in.

Millie made herself comfortable in the cushioned chair, leaving the three others the hard table chairs.

"Vash," Meryl started once she had sat down. She intertwined her fingers, and shifted slightly in her chair. "I was actually wondering… could I have a word with you?" She asked.

Because of lack of sleep and a preoccupied mind, Vash was slow to answer, but Knives took some speed.

"I do need some help with Clint," he said.

He glanced at Millie.

"Mille?" Meryl said.

"Yes?"

"Would you?"

"Of course!"

Meryl watched until they had disappeared from view.

Vash was gazing at her. He was finding it very hard to concentrate; his thoughts were jumbling in his head like clothes in a dryer.

"I wanted to apologize…about Clint being your son. He's not your son, but please be careful with him. Someone trusted you with him. I shouldn't have judged you so much."

Finding it hard to come up with a non-bias answer, Vash remained silent for a moment. When Meryl had finally realized Clint wasn't his son, he had just found out he was.

"Thank you," was all he could think of to say. "But don't worry about it anymore."

"I've been a real jerk, but with the wedding, and work; it's been crazy." She looked into Vash's eyes.

"I understand…well, I guess not, I've never helped with a wedding or anything, but I understand what you're saying." He stumbled over his words.

Meryl gave him a small smile.

She was very pretty, Vash thought, and immediately stress fell on him. What was he supposed to do? He redirected his eyes from her- her silky hair, and porcelain skin- and let them rest for a moment on the chair where Millie had been.

Millie and Knives had been gone a very long time, and between Vash's lack of sleep and stress, he could think of nothing to say.

"Why is Knives so happy?" Meryl asked. Half of her was searching for some kind of evidence against him, evidence for some evil plan.

"I'm not sure," Vash answered.

"They're sure taking a long time. Maybe we should see if they need help." She suggested.

But when Vash showed Meryl to Clint's bedside, Knives and Millie seemed to be quite done with whatever they were doing.

"Hullo!" Millie chirped. "Clint doesn't seem to be doing very well at all today."

"Have you ever thought of taking him to the doctor?" Meryl asked, peering at the sleeping teenager. Ends of Clint's blond mop hair just touched down to his closed eyes. His face looked red and miserable.

"That's where he got his medication," Knives inserted.

"It's obviously doesn't work very well," Meryl pointed out.

"Yes, but it's the best they have." Knives said more sternly.

Meryl glanced sideways at him, and he stared back. She was having a difficult time trusting him with this sudden spark in attitude. He had to be up to something.

….

Meryl spent her afternoon licking envelopes and addressing invitations. Because it was so repetitious, she found it tedious, and was thrilled to have Charles visit to ease her dislike. He was looking as handsome as ever, and appeared to having the most delightsome day of his life. He could hardly wait to blurt out what Vanessa had told him about Vash.

"They kissed?" Meryl asked.

Charles nodded with a grin.

For some reason Meryl didn't like it. "That's not like him," she said, remembering how she had traveled with Vash for years and hadn't even received the slightest peck on the cheek.

"Vanessa likes him a lot," Charles continued, beaming. "I think she wants to go on another date with him."

"Another date!" Meryl asked in disbelief. "No, I would be surprised if he did go on another one."

She pounded a stamp onto an envelope.

"Maybe it was a 'thanks for the date and company' kiss," Charles suggested.

That didn't sound right either. Unless somehow he had found Vanessa completely enthralling…but she couldn't see why, she wasn't_ that_ pretty.

She scribbled an address on the envelope and put it down on top of a large stack. At least she was making some progress. At least _she_ was finally getting married.

It took her several days' work to finish addressing invitations with some help from Millie and Charles. Finally she carried the batch to the post office, which would take them to their new home.

And now, she had all that paperwork from Bernardeli Millie had picked up. It looked like it would take even longer than her invitations, but at least her tongue wouldn't get sore from licking envelopes.

The morning she had begun to toil on it looked like it was going to be the longest morning of her life. She set her mind to the task, and with Millie out of the house buying groceries, had set a goal to get at least a sixth of it done. But someone had interrupted her…

"Hey Meryl!"

She jumped, and her eyes wandered passed her typewriter to see Vash (who had obviously helped himself into her house).

"Not busy are you?" He asked, regardless of the mound of paperwork next to her.

"I am working…" She glanced down at the papers.

"Listen, I need your help," Vash said. He put down a bowl full of all kinds of food-making devices. "It's not that I'm a bad cook, it's just I've never made a birthday cake, and it would be a big help if you…" He glanced over her work again. "…could help?"

"Whose birthday is it?" She asked, trying to recall the day's date.

"It's Clint's birthday… I thought we could do something really nice for him." He smiled.

….

Clint had accompanied Knives to visit the plants of Sunset City. Knives had found it would be rather helpful for them to learn more about this virus that had been inserted into the plants. As Clint had hoped, the information may one day safe a life.

Knives bit his bottom lip. "There isn't a cure is there?" He asked Clint.

"No."

"Then this city will be nothing soon." He said, gazing at the beautiful surface of the plant in front of them. It was glossy, but misty and light inside. Once in a while a sudden outburst of energy would interrupt his thinking.

"And then there's Chame," Knives continued.

"Defeat him," Clint said.

"If I honestly _can't_ kill him, how?" He asked bitterly. "If we don't kill him now, more people in the long run will die. It's illogical."

"There's always another way," Clint prompted. "We have to get everyone to leave town, and we need to stop Chame."

….

Stirring up a thick icy mixture, Meryl turned to Vash. "Where are Knives and Clint? Don't you worry about them together?"

"I used to, but I think Clint has brought some good changes in him." Vash answered.

He did find it very odd that Knives had jumped to Clint so fast. After all, wasn't he some sort of proof that plants and humans could live together? Clint was proof of everything Knives had disagreed with, and Knives appeared to be fine with the idea.

Meryl finished stirring the icing just as they heard the front door open and shut.

"Oh good, Millie is back with the groceries," she said.

But when Millie had entered the kitchen she wasn't carrying bags of food. An albino cat was held securely in her arms, and it was purring loudly.

"I found a kitty," she said, cradling the albino cat.

"Albino?" Vash and Meryl said together.

"I think it's lost." She stroked it.

"You should have left it; the owner might go back looking for it." Meryl protested.

"Maybe the owner will come here looking for it."

"Not if they don't know we have it." Meryl sighed. "Did you get the groceries?"

"Oops, sorry, I forgot."

The white cat looked up at Vash with its big red eyes. He studied it in return.

"I'll make signs," Millie decided, and gave the cat to Meryl.

Like an exploding bomb, the cat went mad in a tantrum of scratches, hisses, and lashings.

Meryl let out a small shriek. She threw the fit in the air, and much like bombs and grenades, it naturally landed on Vash- who cried out "mercy mercy!" as it exploded again.

….

Millie picked up the red crayon, and carefully colored the dozens of red eyes staring at her from each sheet of paper (an albino cat had been drawn on every one of them.) It was very important for her to color in the lines as not to contaminate the white fur with any red. If any red proceeded to the white, she would have to start over… If Millie had known her friends were being clawed alive by the animal, it would have been a lot less of a matter.

….

"Kill it!" Meryl cried as the demon cat continued its rampage. It was now destroying everything it came in contact with.

"I'm not going to kill it!" Vash cried.

Meryl knew this of course, but it felt good to say it in the least.

Powdered sugar flew in the air after being vandalized by the feline.

Then the cat charged for the insurance girl.

Meryl grabbed a pan, and held it in her hand like a baseball bat.

The cat hissed and flew for her head. Meryl ducked, and it flew toward Vash (who was standing behind her). As Vash noticed its sharp teeth and claws shine through the sandstorm of powdered sugar, he realized it quite resembled how he had pictured the devil.

Vash side stepped and barely dodged its attack.

With a loud hiss, the cat landed on its feet.

Meryl was clearly loosing it- her eyes were beginning to bulge as she chased after it like a laughing maniac.

The cat made another lap around the kitchen before its next attack.

Diligently, Vash grasped the icing bowl, and as it charged for him (Meryl behind it) its sharp teeth bared, he smashed the bowl over it.

The bowl rattled for a few seconds before coming to surrender at Vash's feet (which were almost hit by the pan Meryl was carrying.)

"I thought I was going to be dead," Vash clenched his heart, gasping.

The cat hissed from under the bowl.

"I'm all done with the signs!" Millie announced.

Vash and Meryl fell over.

….

Meanwhile, Knives and Clint continued their studies and discussions in front of the plants.

"We'll be creating more damage in the long run by letting them malfunction." Knives pondered.

"But if there is no cure, we can't help that unless you know how to move them from the city." Clint told him.

"So we'll _force_ everyone out?" Knives asked, lips beginning to smile. Mind tinkering was something he was close to an expert at. It was easy. You could make anyone do almost anything in the world. And logically, it would be the fastest way to get everyone out of the city.

"What do you mean?" Clint asked.

"Naïve." Knives returned in disgust. "Vash didn't teach you much of anything, did he?

"That's a lie." Clint furrowed his eyebrows.

Knives sighed. "That idiot man… he would flip."

"What are you talking about?"

Knives shook his head, staring at the infected plant before them. "I've been with him for five years, and he still knows nothing. He tries so hard to be human… so hard to be…less. Odd when he has so much potential.

"My dad isn't human," Clint said, becoming very confused with this whole conversation.

"Exactly." Knives agreed, but then waved the subject away with his hand. "He just better be making a move- the idiot. We're not slaving away for him to just watch that insurance girl."

"Don't push him," Clint said. "Slowly will probably be better."

"I guess you know the couple better than I." Knives sighed again.

He walked back over to the nearest plant, and placed his palms upon the surface. Sensing deeper into the virus…

….

After successfully finishing her signs, Millie left into town again to plaster them across the city. The cat mewed happily by her feet.

"Kitty!" Someone called.

Millie looked up from her signs as several children gathered themselves around the feline- Charles in the midst of them.

"Hi Millie. What's up?" He asked, emerald green eyes shinning.

"Are these your children?" She asked.

The cat hissed at them.

"Oh, well, my brothers and sisters. Hasn't Meryl told you about them?"

"Uh-uh," Millie shook her head. "She has been busy with paper work."

"Is that your cat?" He pointed down to the animal who was now preparing to claw one of the children if they came any closer.

"No, I'm trying to find whose it is."

"Need help?" He asked.

"That would be very nice, thank you." She handed him some signs.

Charles laughed. "Wow, Millie, you made these all by hand."

Having them for company was even better than Millie had thought. The children had plenty of energy and began running to put the signs all over- up stairs, on the doors of big department stores, and even went as far as a tree. The cat prepared an attack every time one of them came by for more signs, but it never succeeded. When all the signs were put up, and the children finally became tired, Millie bid them goodbye, and added a "thank you".

….

In the kitchen Meryl had just taken the chocolate cake out of the oven.

Vash grabbed the bowl full of icing.

"Hey this tastes really good," Vash said after introducing his mouth to some of it.

"Vash! That's for Clint!" Meryl growled. "If you can't contain yourself, leave."

Meryl forcefully took the icing bowl.

"I'll be good." He promised.

"I'm back!" Millie announced, holding the albino cat and entering the kitchen.

"Did you remember to get groceries?" Meryl asked.

"No… but I put up all the signs. Meryl, I'm a little worried; what if no one comes to claim it?"

"Then _we _are _not_ keeping it."

"But we can't just put it out on the streets."

"We'll give it to Clint, it's his birthday." Meryl answered impatiently.

"What!" Vash gasped, and stole the icing bowl from her. "Over my dead body!"

"It hates me, and I'll be a dead body if that thing stays here!" She took the bowl back.

"Oh, and we'll be perfectly fine?" Vash asked. He pried the icing out of her hands and ate a bite.

"All kids need a pet!" Meryl reached for it, but Vash moved it away. "It develops respons-" Miss again. "-ibility."

Vash ate more.

"A devil- cat only inflicts damage and destruction," he told her.

"Sound familiar," Meryl reached across Vash for the bowl. He held it up high with a smirk.

"What about Charles' little brothers and sisters? They helped me, and they seemed to like the cat." Millie interrupted.

"No Millie, I wouldn't do that, they wouldn't be able to afford it." Meryl answered.

"They can have it for free."

"No, it's the food, and vet." Meryl explained.

"Hold up," Vash declared, and to Meryl's delight, put down the bowl. "Charles takes care of all those kids?"

"Yes," Meryl took the bowl. "Since he was… 16."

"16? What happened to his parents?" Vash asked.

"His father walked out when he was 14, and then his mom died." She answered.

"That's awful."

"I know," Meryl nodded.

"And he's been taking care of all those kids?"

"Well, his aunt and uncle contribute money, but he raises them."

"Does he need any help?"

"He has quite a bit of help; his story is sad, really." Meryl frowned at the cake before her. After a few seconds, she began to scoop out icing.

To everyone's surprise, Vash resisted eating any more icing as they colored it and spread it. And to Vash's surprise, Meryl was very good at cake decorating. She mixed colors and added designs; she finished it off with a loopy _Happy Birthday_. It was amazing how her hands swooped and dotted across the cake; they were so precise. Then as she finished the tail of the Y, a loud scratchy knock sounded on the front door.

Millie rushed to the door in high spirits, holding the cat close to her bosom.

"Can I help you?" Millie asked.

The man standing in her doorway was one she didn't know anything about except his striking rigid appearance. His dark hair was shaggy, tangled, and rather long. It even began to intertwine with his scratchy facial hair, but where they met, Millie couldn't tell. Sunken in, his eyes were a smoky dull gray, and on his head lay a leather western hat that covered the greasy roots on his scalp. If someone was to ask Millie how old he was, she would have told anyone he was at least ten years older than she.

"Rade." The man beaconed.

"Is this your cat?" Millie asked kindly.

"Yes," his gray eyes darted from the feline to hers at lightning speed, "he has good taste."

Millie passed the cat into his arms, and was relieved to see the cat was completely content with the man.

"Do you miss him?"

"Not really," Millie answered, staring into the cat's red eyes. "I think he will be more comfortable with his owner."

She gave the cat one last pat on the head.

"Not Rade." The man nodded to the cat in his arms. "Wolfwood."

Millie's heart skipped a beat, and she suddenly felt hot as her heart hurried to regain its lost note. Slowly, she brought her eyes up to the man's gaunt face. Her mind tried to convince her that she had miss heard.

"I buried him." He told her. He was unable to completely conceal the excitement he had from the sudden flash in her blue eyes. "It wasn't Nick's time, but don't worry. Millie, those involved will pay for it."

His calm still tone made goose bumps prick Millie's skin.

"I am sorry, I didn't want you to get sick, but it will be worth it in the end." He smiled at her with his yellow teeth. "It will continue tomorrow, and I want you least of all miserable. I'll ask you to please leave Sunset before tomorrow evening. Wolfwood wouldn't want you dead." The man tipped his hat to her. "It's all for him and Chapel. And thank you for returning Rade. He's the only one who has survived from my past that I can really love." He gave Millie one last glance, and departed at a rushed pace, holding the cat close.

Numb, Millie shut the door. Her throat was tight, and her mouth was dry. The wood of the door began to blur.

"Millie?" Meryl's voice sounded.

She turned away from the door, staring at Vash and Meryl as tears fell down.

"Meryl," she sniffed. "Wolfwood would want _anyone_ to die would he?" She asked and buried her face in her hands.

"No…I don't think so," Meryl answered. She was unsure of exactly what had just happened, but nonetheless took a step forward.

Millie clasped for her, and still confused, Meryl patted her on the back, glancing at Vash. He opened the door again and searched the street. Whoever had knocked on the door was out of sight now.

"He said he was _killing_ for him. He loved Wolfwood and buried him, but he wants to _kill_ for him."

Vash brought his fingers to his chin in thought, half listening to mumbles from Millie. Albino cats weren't common… in fact he had only seen two others, and one was at Delta. It was vicious, and so was this cat. He hadn't thought it was important, but it was the only survivor of the destruction he had found. And this man who owns it knows Wolfwood? And had (to some relief) taken his body to bury it? And the one plant that wasn't infected in December gave power to Wolfwood's orphanage? Vash also dreaded the possibility of Knives being deeply involved. Who had given him his injuries in Delta? Not a survivor, they would have been too weak. He wondered, but never dared ask.

"The plants must be infected," he finally said to Meryl. "Millie," he addressed. "Did he tell you his name?"

"No," she sniffed. She let go of Meryl and wiped her eyes. "But the cat's is Rade."

The cat's name was completely useless.

"He told me to leave so I wouldn't be killed." Millie added.

"We have to get everyone out of here," Vash declared. He looked over at Meryl.

"What?" She asked.

"Are you going to help me?"

"Well _of course_. It's my job Broomhead!"

"Oh thank you! It's going to be one heck of a job getting inside to those plants. Thank you!" He took her hands.

"Vash… what exactly are we doing?" Meryl asked slowly.

….

A small prick in the back of Knives' mind let him know Vash was very near to them.

"Your dad is here," he announced.

Before Clint could ask anything, Vash tumbled in through the entrance a great distance away from them. He was followed by Millie and Meryl, looking completely shaken up.

"Vash!" Meryl chided and got dangerously close. "That was the most-"

"You said you would help me!" Vash pleaded. "At least we got in, and I can't forget to thank you."

Meryl groaned. _Thank you_ didn't quite cut it.

"But it was a really good idea to use the broom to knock them in the rear end," Vash complimented.

"Good idea? Vash, that was supposed to be for self defense! Not to egg them on!"

Vash gave a small "oh".

Knives and Clint watched them unnoticed. When Clint went to call out, Knives hushed him.

"I owe both of you then! I swear I'll make it up to you!" Vash pleaded.

"Hullo Clint and Knives!" Millie called and waved.

Vash and Meryl stopped and turned.

"Happy Birthday, Clint!" Millie said.

Meryl felt like she had swallowed a rock, and was slightly relieved she wasn't the only one.

"What are they doing here?" Vash asked.

Meryl's thought quite agreed with this statement. She knew Knives had been up to something with Clint, and now they were here in front of these diseased plants. How could Vash just let Knives sneak under him like that?

Without a word, Meryl broke into a run.

"Meryl!" Vash went after her in worry. What was she thinking running for him like that?

Thanks to Vash's long strong legs, he passed Meryl up.

He came to a halt.

"Knives, what are you doing here?"

He didn't answer, but just stared at him with daring eyes.

Vash turned to the nearest plant and put his hands on it. A split second later he realized it was indeed infected.

"They're infected. How many?" He asked Knives.

Knives stared.

Meryl pulled Clint away from them.

"What did he do to you?" She asked, searching his body for evidence of some abuse.

"I'm fine," Clint insisted. He was completely confused with all the tension in the room.

"What's going on Meryl?" Millie asked with a touch of fear.

"Millie, Knives took Clint to these infected plants, that's what's happened."

Millie frowned.

Meryl suddenly remembered Legato's dreadful brain teasings and tricks.

"Can you move?" She asked.

"Well, yeah," Clint answered, adjusting his sunglasses.

"What's today?" Meryl asked.

"My birthday."

"How old are you?"

"15 now," he answered, growing agitated with this.

Knives' cold eyes sparked. "Are you accusing me, dear brother?"

"I don't want to," Vash answered seriously.

"This is where Clint and myself have been lately."

"Why?"

"They're all full of disease," he whispered.

"Then how come you never told me?" Vash asked.

Knives lowered his voice volume even more. "Because you're dead."

"But not for a long time." Vash answered, confused. "Not for at least 13 or 14 years."

"Want to know what infected you?" Knives looked up at the gorgeous plant.

Vash followed Knives' eyes to her as well. "But if it's contagious, then why are you and Clint here?"

"It's not contagious. It was just a safety precaution for the time being."

"But Clint-"

"If he got it, it wouldn't kill him anyway. Only us. It can kill as fast or as slow as possible depending who has it, and how much." Knives shared. "We've been in here trying to learn more about it."

"How did you get in so often?" Vash asked.

"This," Knives tore his eyes from the plant and back to his brother. "I am guilty of according to you. No on really comes here when we're here…I make sure they find something else to do." A smirk broke through. "Vash, they do have simple minds."

"Knives!"

He growled and took a step forward with a temper.

"What's the point of having it if we can't use it!" Knives yelled in anger.

"There are other ways."

"There are _always_ other ways, but that's not the point. Why is it you try so hard to be unnoticed? You loose so much of yourself in doing so."

The other three were watching now.

"I think you're the one who has lost yourself. You're balancing on a fence, haven't chosen which side to get off. Just whose side are you on?"

"This isn't about _me_. This isn't about sides. It's about you and being who you are! You're not human! We shouldn't have to hide away and conceal it."

"Knives, it's not because I feel obligated or even just the consequences, I don't want the world to know because-"

"_You_ don't want to know," Knives snapped. "You're afraid of us."

"That's-"

"And maybe if you had the knowledge, you wouldn't be, but you're afraid of that too!"

"Knives-"

But Knives didn't want to hear another excuse, he knew he was right. And in pure anger, he stormed away, glancing back to add /It's for your sake, I hope you know/

Vash watched him go, and turned to Clint, Millie, and Meryl.

"Clint, are you okay?" Vash asked in a depressing tone.

"I'm fine. We were just trying to help." He answered, feeling very frustrated at everyone's actions. "Why?"

"…just be cautious when you're with him."

"We were fine, he was only like that when he knew you were coming."

"He's involved with this somehow," Vash said. "And I'm worried about all of you."

"It's Chame." Clint said. "He knows him somehow."

"Who's Chame?" Meryl asked.

Clint looked up to into to Vash's eyes, and he suddenly knew.

"The man who is doing this. The man who owned the cat."

"Well, don't worry about me Vash! I've had a lot of experience working with you and Meryl. They still call me stun gun Millie."

"Yes, but I can't help but worry when people are in danger." Vash answered.

"But I'm getting hungry. When will we eat Clint's birthday cake?" Millie asked.

"Oh Millie," Meryl sighed.

Seconds later an odd sensation overcame them with a force silently asking "now what should we do?" Millie, Meryl, and Clint half waited for Vash to answer, but Vash appeared to be wondering the same, but with deeper thoughts. Finally he spoke.

"I really don't want to be on Knives bad side at a time like this…" he admitted.

"Maybe you should go find him," Millie suggested. "That why he'll know you care."

"Oh, I think Knives knows he cares, Millie." Meryl answered with some rudeness. Her displeasure with Knives was leaking into her words. Anyone who knew Vash wouldn't hesitate to know he cared about Knives, because so much of what he believed was attacked by that man. Knives' actions were too serious not too care about. "It's Vash's care that Knives used against him in the first place or-"

At this Meryl had been struck by a bolt of lightning. She quickly covered her mouth.

Millie stared at her, questioning.

Meryl had turned her eyes to Vash. She could hardly believe what she had just done. Vash had used the same tactic for her- when he sent her away. He had told her to leave if she really loved him… How could she have just put the most two black and white people in the same category? Apart from blood, they were nothing alike. Vash wasn't cruel…but why did he use that harsh tactic with her?

"I'll go find him," Vash decided.

It had been a long time since Vash had dared look for Knives after an argument. After a former incident involving a bullet, some bruises, and other practices, Vash had found it better to let Knives leave in peace. And he would have still done the same if he didn't need Knives' help.

Author's note:

Some action back in the next chapter! Thoughts, theories, and critiques are very much welcome! Thanks for reading!


	12. Underestimated

Once anger had died down in Knives, he thought of his brother more deeply. When it came to attacking him, he knew Vash so well, but in alliance…an alliance in which Vash was the leader? It was easy for Knives to feel misplaced; a fifth wheel. What did he want?

He thought once again of how he didn't really want his brother to die, and he dared ponder on it longer. When had this thought changed?

With a sudden prick, Knives sensed his brother. He stopped walking and turned to see Vash's red coat furling around him. It was then Knives realized he had wandered so far into the city. He had walked quite a few blocks.

Vash hadn't followed him in a long time. Was he suspicious of Knives…?

"Where are you going?" Vash asked with caution.

Just as Vash had expected, Knives didn't answer.

"I'm sorry we had an argument," Vash ventured further. "But there are more important matters."

Vash half expected a reply containing to the repetitious idea of plants being the most important matter alive, but Knives remained silent.

"We're going to get everyone out of the city…" Vash continued. "Would you… be willing to help?"

Knives debated in his head. He took a sophisticated step towards him, and Vash slightly flinched. For the first time it bothered Knives. He proceeded to reach his hand out, cautiously, Vash shook it.

Vash's sea-green eyes looked down at their hand and up at his brother with animated eyes.

"You're going to help us?" Vash asked, and clamped his arms around his brother, rivers running out of his eyes and down his cheeks.

Knives felt very awkward and uncomfortable as his brother embraced him.

"I'm so happy!"

A sweatdrop hung on Knives. This was lasting _way_ too long.

"Vash, get off."

Vash immediately heeded. "Sorry."

Knives sighed.

….

Meryl, Millie, and Clint tried to think of ideas on how to get the town to leave while Vash was gone. They were still standing in front the luminous plants when they began to brainstorm.

"We'll just tell them Vash is here. For some reason that always gets people running," Millie said thoughtfully.

"Vash won't be too fond of the idea… we'll avoid it if we can." Meryl answered.

"Why _does_ he have so much money on his head?" Clint asked curiously.

Meryl blinked, trying to find a flaw for a joke, but there was none in his innocent face. She was at a loss of words.

"Vash always has trouble after him," Millie said. "Meryl says it's heck keeping him out of it."

"Don't you know?" Meryl asked.

Clint shook his head.

Meryl was shocked, an individual who didn't know why Vash was so dangerous actually existed. She was about to knock it into him until she remembered how much he looked up to the outlaw.

Clint was afraid his mother would neglect telling him again… he was so close this time… he hadn't yet lost hope…

"I'll find out from the crowd anyway- just tell me!"

"He didn't intend it," Meryl said. "You know he wouldn't have."

"And?" Clint insisted.

"We don't have time for the story, but in short, he destroyed July and Augusta!"

"July and Augusta?"

"You know, the cities?"

"But-"

Meryl put her index finger to his lips. "We have to get everyone out of here right now. Plants can be deadly."

Clint's bones felt cold. He held his tongue, but his mind continued thinking on it. The horror on his father's face at the sight of the destruction was painted vividly in his mind. How did he do it? What exactly happened?

"Got it Clint?" Meryl asked.

"What?" Clint awoke from his daydream.

"We're going to talk to the employees who work with the plants," Millie explained.

"Clint…"

He looked at Meryl.

It was still shocking to see the resemblance in his face; just like when Vash was worried. For a moment she thought of comforting him, but she suddenly changed direction. "Let's get going."

"We shouldn't waste time," Clint replied.

It was a very short walk before they ran into someone who immediately chastised them for being in the building. The _gentleman_ forcefully "showed" them to the front desk, and pointed to the exit doors from there.

But instead of leaving, Meryl slammed her hand on the desk with a loud_ bang_.

"We need to see the man in charge!"

The secretary didn't even bother to look at them for several more seconds, but when her silver eyes finally met Meryl's, she said slowly "I need to see some identification."

"Millie!" Meryl ordered, and just from hearing her name Millie knew what was asked.

She began searching all her pockets…searching…searching…

"Millie!"

She searched harder until finally… "I don't think we've ever had to use our identification."

"You don't have yours?" Meryl asked.

"No, do you?"

A glance at Meryl's face told her "no".

Meryl turned back to the secretary.

"Listen, we're from Bernardeli insurance, and we need to issue a _disaster prevention warning_!"

"Well I'm sorry," the secretary lied, for it was obvious she felt no such emotion towards them. "But if no one has identification there is no way I'm letting you in."

"But this-!"

"Well then it just sucks to be you," the secretary answered sarcastically.

Clint stepped up to the desk. "We'll be long gone by the time this place is rubble, I wish we could say that about everyone else. The way these plants are acting up, this place will be worse than July by tomorrow. Now let me speak to the one who runs this place."

"I.D.?"

"He's 14," Meryl grumbled.

"15," Clint corrected and searched his pockets.

"I.D.?"

"Here it is," he pulled out the black and green card. He placed it on the desk.

The secretary studied it, glancing up once in a while to verify his facial features and noted the matching black and green tie.

"Willington School?" she asked.

"Student of course." Clint added. "Meryl and Millie are with me as well."

To their amazement, the secretary stood up and beckoned them down the hall. "It's this way."

Meryl followed, dumbfounded. What kind of place was this?

"Good thinking," Millie whispered to Clint.

The new room they entered was full of buttons, monitors, and employees.

The secretary brought the three to another man who had shocking red hair, and was the owner of a very stern look. Clint knew right off he was someone that shouldn't be tested; Clint's teacher, Mr. Moacher, always had the same fierce look in his eyes.

The secretary whispered something that they couldn't hear to him, and he his fierce eyes met theirs. Something about the eyes made the three of them speechless.

"Well? What is it?" He spat.

Meryl took control, and forced her emotion on him. "These plants are sick!" She growled.

"You think I don't know that?" He asked "Get to the point _girls_." He insisted, paying the littlest attention to Clint.

"We need to issue a disaster warning, an evacuation." Meryl proceeded.

"If we don't, all the people could get hurt," Millie added.

"More like annihilated!" Meryl corrected. "Because there hasn't been a warning issued, it's our job to make sure one gets issued as to prevent damage _and_ death."

"Relax, gals, it's just a glitch in the system."

Meryl had a look of pure annoyance. Why was it so many men underestimated women? Did he think she was stupid?

"You think this is a _glitch_?" Clint asked.

"It's nothing we can't fix." The man answered.

Clint stared at him in disbelief. "Nothing? Nothing is wrong? Oh, no, it's not like this happened in December or Delta. _This_ must be nothing! Nothing kills people. It's nothing that's happened. It's nothing that killed my dad!" He shouted at the man in frustration. If this man had been Mr. Moacher, Clint would have been taken straight to the principal's office. "You sure as _heck_ better do something, or this _nothing_ is going to happen to you!"

A dangerous fizzing noise erupted over electronic devices as Clint glared at the man before him, and for that slight moment, he looked more like Knives than Vash.

The employees scrambled with mechanics and buttons in the background.

"Boss, the levels are going crazy!"

The red-haired man glanced at the employee, who began turning knobs like mad.

"Help!It's all whacked." The employee then began pressing buttons, assuming that the harder and more he pressed, the sooner they would stop the sudden havoc.

"It's already happening?" Millie asked Meryl.

Meryl didn't answer her, she had an odd feeling that maybe the destruction wasn't coming from the infected plants.

The red-haired man turned his back on them.

"Hey!" Clint growled. "I'm not done with you!" He grabbed the man's shoulder and more electrical pops sounded followed by loud grunts of dumbfounded employees. "We need to get the word out now!"

If somehow Clint had managed to ever back talk Mr. Moacher this far, this would be the part where he would have received a slap to the face; the man quite looked tempted to take the same approach.

"Be a gentleman and please listen to these ladies," Clint insisted.

_Crackle. Crackle. Pop!_

"Please! Or we'll force a warning."

"Is a school student threatening me?"

"Only if you don't heed."

Sparks began flying from the machinery behind the red-haired man.

"Boss! Boss!" An employee cried. "Should we shut down the power?"

Clint glared through his sunglasses.

"Please, sir," Millie spoke.

"Boss! Boss! What do we do?"

"We'll send one," he answered.

"Now?" Clint asked.

"Yes."

"Show me."

The red-haired man hesitated and then proceeded. "Joseph!" He called. "Get your sorry butt to the mayor's office!"

Joseph, a very thin man who was half-listening to the conversation, asked no questions, and departed

A few moments later, Millie, Meryl, and Clint followed his example. The room had become so chaotic, that Clint suggested they leave too, and when they had weaved their way passed the front desk and through the grey exit doors, Millie turned to him.

"Wow, that was very brave of you, Clint." Millie told him. "I didn't know you could be so intimidating."

Clint on the other hand didn't find his action brave. He wasn't afraid of that man, he was just angry at him… he couldn't help but yell. He was a lot more afraid of who wouldn't leave the city if he didn't listen to them. This man underestimated them, surely others would as well.

It wasn't long until Vash returned.

"Vash is back with Knives," Meryl announced in relief. "We need to be cautious with him in such situations."

Clint was about to ask Meryl why, but the two blonds were close in ear shot now.

"Vash!" Millie called. "We've issued an evacuation warning!"

Vash was slightly surprised at the news.

"I think it's already starting. The plants are going hay-wire," she continued. "Sparks were flying out of the equipment.

/It was my fault really/ Clint told the twins.

/You're not supposed to communicate to me like this/ Vash thought back.

/I've already crossed the line when I made those sparks shoot out/ Clint explained.

/But it's important to me to save your energy in a time like this/ Vash answered.

Clint gave a small frown and looked away.

"Vash, I need to find Charles," Meryl said urgently.

Just as she had finished speaking, the large city speaker rang through the streets. The majority of people stopped in their tracks (it wasn't a very common occurrence) while others continued through the street with a brisk pace.

"_Citizens of Sunset City are recommended to evacuate due to plant disruptions,"_ came an astute voice.

"What do you need to find him for?" Knives snarled at Meryl.

"I understand," Vash answered, staring at her ring finger.

It was that look in Vash's eyes again. Meryl felt uncomfortable, and departed after suggesting Millie stay with them.

"Now what, dear brother?" Knives asked.

"We help get everyone out," Vash answered, still watching Meryl until a small family intercepted his view.

"We can't leave anyone behind," Millie agreed.

'No,' Vash thought, 'not even Charles.'

….

Meryl walked straight through the door of Charles' home- she didn't even hesitate to knock. She rushed around rooms calling his name until she turned a corner and nearly ran into him. She let the stress filled air out of her lungs, relieved she had found him.

"Meryl, are you okay?" He grabbed her arms, his sincere emerald eyes drilled into her lavender ones. He looked taken back with her; his concerned expression was framed with his brown hair.

"You've got to get out of here. Where are you and your family going?" She asked quickly.

"All the sandsteamer tickets are sold out. How serious is it?" He asked.

"_Very_ serious," She answered with livid eyes. "The plants are dying and Sunset will look just like December and Delta. We can't do anything to stop it, we just have to get everyone to leave or they'll die!"

Charles watched Meryl's stress and emotion weep out of her. Every hair on her body was in a hurry.

"You need to get out of this city now!"

Charles kissed her in hopes of relieving her stress. It was short and caught Meryl off guard.

"It'll be okay," he told her. "Just breath, don't put it all on your shoulders."

"It's not, Millie, Vash, his brother, and Clint are helping too. Vash is used to these kinds of incidences. And I'm slowly gaining my touch back."

"We'll leave, even if we have to walk and camp. I don't think we'll be the only ones. Do we need to stop by your house and grab your belongings?"

Meryl shook her head. "I'm not going with you, I need to help the others get more people away… most don't understand how serious this is."

"You're staying?" Charles asked.

"Take your brothers and sisters, and go as far as you can until night; we'll meet up with you, and give everyone you meet this same advice."

Charles stared at her. He loved her so much, but he could tell by the look in her eye that nothing was going to change her mind. He reminded himself that it was her job to prevent damage.

"Here, I'll help you pack," Meryl suggested when Charles didn't move.

"Will you be safe? Are you sure about this?" He asked.

"I have been in worse situations with Vash, but within his presence, I'll be safe." She answered and ushered him away.

….

Before continuing their journey, Knives, Vash, Clint, and Millie made a quick stop at the blonds' suite. They acted as fast as possible, grabbing a few essential items, such as Clint's medication.

Knives handed Clint a glass of water. The teenager stuffed his mouth with several pills and drank the glass empty.

"You're starting to run out," Knives pointed out. Clint's little bag of white pills clutched in his hand was beginning to look scarce.

"Millie," Vash turned to her. "You do you need anything at Meryl's?"

"No, unless Meryl is there," Millie answered. Most of Millie's belonging had been scattered all over the world when she had fallen ill. She had stayed with her family a short while and was later migrated to December for treatment, some time between that, her house here in Sunset had been sold. But being the person she is, none of it appeared to bother her.

"Knives, you have your gun, right?" Vash asked.

"Of course."

Vash pulled out his own silver gun and tossed it to Clint. He caught it and stared down at its surface, amazed. He had never been allowed to hold his father's gun.

"If anyone dangerous comes after you, pull the trigger."

"Don't kill them though," Knives added. "He's not very fond of death."

"Not very fond at _all_," Vash agreed as he opened the suite door.

….

"Come on, Jen," Charles beckoned his sister. "Everyone has a job of keeping an eye on everyone, okay?"

Meryl walked the family down the street as other factors rushed through her head.

"We're camping?" Cody, (Charles' little brother) asked.

"Yes, camping…maybe for a while." He answered.

It was when they walked by another speaker that an idea rose in Meryl's mind. She stopped walking.

"Charles, I promise, I'll meet you," she said.

Charles turned his head, looking worried anyway.

"We'll be okay," she called to him. Then she turned to face the speaker praying she didn't need an I.D. to get to it.

….

It was half tedious and half rewarding work for Millie, Vash, Clint, and Knives. Vash had a small way of persuading people, but Clint had a way of convincing people with a sentence. Vash was taken aback with the authority Clint demonstrated as they met couples, families, and co-workers. His vigor rubbed off on nearly everyone they came in contact with, he meant what he said, and was determined to finish the job he had started. Knives didn't do anything unless it was necessary, and then it usually contained demands, Vash had a habit of pleading, and Millie kindly addressed and explained the problem. No one knew how long they directed people and provided service packing essential belonging for them, but as they turned down a new street, the speaker sounded again.

"Hey, it's Meryl," Clint pointed out.

"_These plants are **dying**! Everyone needs to leave as soon as possible! Go anywhere but here. The plants are infected with the virus, leave Sunset immediately! If you don't have transportation, camping is being set up to the east of here."_

"Thank you Meryl," Vash muttered under his breath, finally becoming aware of how tired he was feeling. "I think that will help a lot, but let's keep going…"

An hour later they ran into Meryl, who was looking as tired as they felt. Then they all continued working well into the night. Vash became aware of how eerie it felt once night had set in and hardly anyone could be found. His mind wondered for a moment if that man- Chame- was still lurking about, but he talked himself out of the idea. Who would stick around for something like this?


	13. A Lover's Mark

Walking over rocks and ditches, Meryl could hardly keep her eyes open as she followed behind Vash and the others. She had no idea what time it was, but she was exhausted and eager to find Charles. So many bumps and holes seemed to surround Sunset that she was surprised she hadn't slipped yet. She struggled to keep her eyes open long enough to caution her footing.

She began to ponder upon her day. She hadn't made it to her house to grab anything. Her heart sunk. All of her wedding plans were in her closet. Soon they would be nothing and so would her wedding dress. She bumped into someone.

"Sorry," Vash said quickly, and caught her before she fell.

Meryl looked up at him through the darkness.

"Are you alright?" Vash asked. "You got so quiet, and I didn't know if you were okay, you didn't answer when I asked. I thought you would have seen me- at least a little." He stumbled to his apology, and then turned his eyes away bashfully.

He liked her, she remembered, and she too looked away. To her horror, her heart swelled, and began to beat against her rib cage. 'It's nothing. I almost fell,' she thought to herself. 'It's nothing.'

She looked back at Vash as if daring her emotions to react again. He was looking at her again, gently this time.

"I'm fine!" She heaved a frustrated sigh. "I was just concentrating on _not_ tripping."

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean…"

"Yeah, don't worry about it."

Vash was quiet for a while as Meryl started passed him.

"…do… you want help? Should we go slower?" Vash suggested. "We don't have to go this fast."

"Yeah, we do. I need to find Charles," she watched her step as she left Vash behind her.

Vash quietly let his pinned up breath out.

'I'm just tired,' Meryl thought. 'Tired, and thinking of Charles…'

"Vash, you better be feeling good about yourself," Knives spoke. "Because that was torturous work to get everyone out of there."

Clint elbowed Knives for his serious mistake of interruption.

Knives glanced at him.

"Clint, why do you still heave those sunglasses on?" Millie asked.

Clint hesitated. "They're…lucky."

"Really?"

"Uh… yeah."

A long distance later they could see small lamps, lamps for people, and tents.

"Do we get to celebrate Clint's birthday when we get there?" Millie asked. "I could really go for some cake!"

Clint smiled weakly.

"Ha!" Knives let out.

"I've just been so tempted to eat it all the way here." Millie said.

"Millie, we didn't bring the cake, we had to help everyone," Meryl told her.

"I brought the cake!" Millie held up the box in her hands.

"When in the world did you get it?" Meryl asked.

"When we were helping those nice people across the street from your house, I remembered it and grabbed it as fast as I could."

"You mean we have food while my stomach is eating itself alive?" Knives asked. "I think I'm going to shoot something."

"Don't even joke about that," Clint said.

"Sentimental and naive, just like your father."

"Something wrong with that?" Clint asked with a tone.

Meryl looked up at them.

"If only you knew," Knives said.

Vash was about to interrupt, but he heard an "ooff" and a thump.

"Meryl, are you okay?" Vash asked, holding his hand out for her.

She got up on her own, and wiped herself off.

"I'm fine," she said agitated. "Just a scrape."

After another half hour, the tent's details were close enough to make out now. Vash was surprised how many had really come out here to camp. Dozens and dozens of tents were spread out, pointing towards the sky like a miniature mountain range. People were identifiable now. Those that held lamps could be recognized by their colored features, and the others left in the dark were distinguished by movement and outline. A few dared wear a small tired smile, but the majority wore worried and hurtful looks.

"Charles," Meryl said under her breath, she had recognized him in an instant.

Knives rolled his eyes.

The handsome prince charming saw her, and came to greet her. He started with a few step, turned them into a few strides, and then he broke into a run.

Meryl blushed as he came closer.

"You're alive," Charles said to her in relief. His body had looked more tired than she had ever seen, but his eyes were wide awake.

Meryl gave Vash a fleeting look before pulling her fiancé into a kiss.

Clint glanced at Vash, who had apparently found the ground suddenly interesting.

The moment he had seen their lips meet, Vash had felt a knot slither in his stomach. It wasn't just the kiss, but the look she had pressed on him. _Meryl knew_.

"Oh brother!" Knives sighed, staring up at the heavens.

When Meryl let go, Charles took a moment to regain himself before speaking. "There are a lot of others here now. You guys must be exhausted," he said.

"Yeah, but not too tired for a birthday!" Millie chirped.

Meryl snuck a glance at Vash and immediately felt a sweep of guilt. She loved Charles…and Vash needed to understand that, even if it did hurt him.

Charles brought them to two tents set up next to each other."People brought extra tents and sleeping bags," he explained. "My brothers and sisters have already made home in one…"

Beaming, a young girl popped her head out of the opening. "Hi!"

Vash noticed the flickering light on the tents- a fire was burning just to the side of them. The heat emanating off the flames was welcoming to everyone's chill skin. Eventually they seated themselves around its dancing flash of red, orange, and yellow. They still had a birthday to celebrate.

Once the birthday song had left their lips, Millie revealed the cake and carefully lifted it out of its box.

"Happy Birthday, Clint!" Charles' little sister, Jen said.

"Thanks."

"Charles," another child whined and tugged on his sleeve. "Canni have some cake?" He asked.

"Of course, as long as you get to sleep tonight."

"I will!" He promised.

Vash gazed around the fire. He had no idea how many brothers and sisters Charles had. Surrounding the fire were two sets of twins (which was odd in itself) and another girl. The oldest was 12 years old. Five kids under 13 sounded like a handful.

Meryl took the liberty of cutting the cake and distributing it to everyone. Although Vash wasn't hungry, he took his piece for the sake of Clint.

Cody (Charles' brother) took no hesitation in being the first to taste it. "This is really good!" He told Meryl happily.

"You and Vash did a really good job," Millie complimented.

"Thanks." She answered. At first she was surprised how fresh it tasted, but then she remembered it was baked only hours ago.

"I just love birthdays!" Millie said. "We have one every month at home; I really miss the cake and parties. It was always really fun!"

"Oh joy," Knives said with a dry voice. "A whole year older, what a celebration."

"You're pretty old now," Charles told Clint. "A real young man. When I was 15 my mom-"

"Charles!" Meryl interrupted. "He's too young."

"Meryl, Clint isn't a little boy anymore…" He pointed out. "He's 15."

"And still really young."

Reluctantly, Charles gave up the attempt to express his 15 year old lifestyle.

"How does it feel?" Vash asked slightly sheepish. He wasn't sure how to act; friend or father? "Well, apart from the havoc…How does it feel to be 15?"

"Not too different, really."

"I never felt different either." Vash gave a small smile.

"Have you ever had a birthday party, Vash?" Millie asked. "I don't ever remember throwing one…"

He looked up at Millie. The flames from the fire illuminated and danced across her skin.

"Yeah, Vash, why haven't we ever had a birthday party?" Knives asked.

In all truth, Vash wasn't sure when they were born. He and Knives had been born by a different calendar, and neither knew nor had taken the time to translate the dates…and it happened so long ago.

Charles took another small bit of the cake, and when Vash realized his clean emerald eyes were on him, he looked away from his handsome face. Charles swallowed and turned to Clint.

"What are you going to do now?" He asked, leaning closer to the teenager.

"I dunno," he answered with a full mouth.

"Don't know? What are you going to do in the career field?" Charles asked. "Meryl says you go to school in Damron."

"Yeah… but I don't really like school."

They continued their conversation, keeping it away from the present situation in Sunset. Instead they spotlighted Clint until that subject had even been worn to death with their words. As the flames began to shrink in stature, Charles' siblings yawned loudly and slowly disappeared into the shelter of the tent.

"Vash," Charles addressed once his family was all snoring. "Would you mind…watching them? Meryl and I need a moment."

"Yeah, I'll keep and eye on them." He answered automatically.

"Oh…and Vash…" he leaned closer, "Thanks, really. Thanks for keeping Meryl safe." He said with the utmost sincere. "She means everything to me. I really appreciate it."

He turned and left with Meryl. The moment they were out of earshot, Knives grumbled something and then turned to Vash.

"You're not supposed to be on good terms with him."

"It feels so wrong doing this." Vash admitted.

"Doing what? You haven't done _anything_." Knives growled.

"It's all up here," Vash pointed to his forehead.

"Then put what's up there, out here!" Knives said in a quiet threatening voice.

"But she loves _him_." Vash frowned.

"Then make her love you."

"It's not that easy," Vash shared. He didn't expect Knives to understand the love he had for her; he hardly knew the motion at all, and this love was so large that even Vash couldn't understand it. But he felt it.

"I can make it easy," Knives taunted him with a twisted grin.

"That will only make things worse. Just because it's easy, doesn't make it right."

"You're a hopeless case. Just be slick, I thought you were smooth with females."

"With anything but them, especially her…" He corrected.

"Listen," Knives came closer. "You've just got to get your point across. Just kiss her."

"No!" Vash reacted like he had just been slapped in the face.

"Why not? You like her."

"Don't push him," Clint interjected.

Knives gave him a look of disbelief. Weren't they trying to hook the two up for his sake?

"If you push him it _will_ fall apart."

"Do you want to die?" Knives asked.

"You just can't push people like them. It will only push them away from each other. Vash," Clint turned to him. "Just be yourself, because that's who she fell in love with in the first place."

The problem was that it was hard for Vash to be himself when Meryl was engaged and Clint was his son. And he never felt equipped for telling her or even loving her in the first place.

"Are you talking about Meryl?" Millie asked thoughtfully from inside the tent.

They froze.

Vash hesitated. He was, as of now, receiving advice from a teenager and a loveless man, and Millie, after all, had been in some sort of love with the priest.

"Yes." He answered.

"Vash, do you love her?" She asked.

He stared at her. "Yes," he sighed. "I do."

Millie sat down next to him.

….

Thanks to the sugar, Meryl was feeling less tired, and she didn't trip once. She grabbed Charles' arm and they walked passed tents and sleeping bags. It was amazing how much brighter the stars looked in the middle of the desert. When little light surrounded them, the moons and stars became much more engaging.

"I just wanted a few minutes alone," Charles explained to her. "You were really brave today, Meryl, I don't know if I would have been able to do what you did."

"I was afraid, but I've been through events like that a lot of times. Anyway, I'm sure you could do it, you're the one who always lends a hand, not me."

"No, you were a real hero. I can only help people in everyday life. What you did was _big_."

"They're both big," Meryl settled.

Charles stopped walking and faced her. "I was afraid I wouldn't see you again. I was afraid I was going to lose you."

"But I'm safe, I'm just a little tired."

"I don't want to lose a woman I love ever again."

Meryl found it odd that Charles should love his mother so much, because, in Meryl's humble opinion, she didn't sound like she was much of a mother at all. Charles' mother had no part in any of her children's life. When her husband walked out on them, Charles was devastated, and she didn't add any hope for him or his siblings. At that point in his life he went in denial; got into trouble with things he shouldn't have even known about. When he hit close to rock bottom, he came to the realization that it wasn't all about him, and that the world extended itself beyond his life. It took a long time to get out of the hole he had dug…

Nearly 2 years later, his mother announced she was pregnant. 8 months after that the youngest two, Hannah and Heidi, were born into the family. From what Meryl had interpreted, Charles had basically become the father of everyone. His mother sounded like a sorry excuse of a woman, who worked with the dirtiest of people, but Meryl had learned a long time ago to try to resist judgment. Although… if someone lies down with dirt, she's going to get dirty. His mother ended up dead because of it.

She decided it was an odd kind of love she couldn't understand… maybe similar to Vash's love for Knives. She personally loathed Knives, and even possibly Charles' mother: both had at one time ruined men.

"We're going to my aunt's," Charles said. "We'll be married there in a few months anyway."

Unlike his mother, Charles' aunt was a very kind woman. She was the one who sent Charles money to sustain his family.

"We'll go to the nearest town and ride our way there, how about it?" He asked her.

"With me?" Meryl asked surprised.

"That's what I thought…"

"Charles, I have to get to the bottom of these plants." Meryl reminded.

He looked disappointed. "But what if you get hurt?"

"This is life threatening!"

"Exactly," he put his arm around her.

"No," Meryl shook her head. "I mean for mankind. If we don't stop it, it could wipe out nearly everyone."

Charles' emerald eyes looked at her sadly. "Meryl…"

Yes, he wanted her to be safe more than anything, but what about all the other lovers who would die because they didn't know about the virus?

"Please come with me."

She hated the look in his eyes, and she didn't want to tell them no, but saying _yes_ would be turning her back on mankind, on life, and on Vash and Clint, even Millie.

….

A small strand of smoke rose from the dying fire as Millie situated herself next to Vash. Vash had just admitted to her that he indeed liked her partner.

"You should tell her," Millie advised.

"I think she already knows," Vash groaned. "Did you see what she did to me? It's enough to make the best of men lose faith in themselves." It was amazing how much easier it was for Vash to tell Millie this information rather than Clint or Knives.

"What might that be?" Knives asked.

"Rejection." Vash whispered, feeling cold, misplaced, and unwanted, like a stray cat in an ally full of lions. It's no secret Vash had undoubtedly been rejected by women before, but when it was someone he truly had his eyes on, the result of his emotion was immense. "She rubbed it in my face."

"Vash!" Millie said so sternly that Clint actually jumped at the change in tone. "You're just as good a man as Charles, if not better, don't you beat down on yourself for acting with your heart."

"I think she's shattered mine…" He answered miserably.

Millie stood up in front of him and gave him a chilling look. "There's nothing wrong with listening to your heart!"

But at that moment, Vash's heart seemed to be beating "baboom baboom" with a sorrowful beat.

"She's engaged, Millie."

Millie clearly found it her duty to knock some sense into Vash.

"And she's different at times..."

"Meryl never stopped loving you, Vash, that's the reason she is the way she is; she did exactly what you asked her to do. She was a disaster when we returned to Sunset, but she got by bit by bit- She let you go day by day, just as you had asked. But that doesn't mean she ever stopped loving you. I don't even think she was at all over you when she met Charles. She only tried to let you go because you asked her to!"

"But I had to ask her that…" Vash answered in a small voice, not daring to look at Millie's stern face.

….

"Charles," Meryl addressed. "I don't know if you knew or understood…and maybe it was better that way, but Vash is _Vash the Stamped_, the _Humanoid Typhoon_."

Charles looked at her in disbelief.

"_He_ was my disaster prevention job years ago. I had to hunt him down and try to keep him out of trouble for a long time

"It can't be him…" Charles doubted.

"Charles, I witnessed the fifth moon incident. Trouble follows him _constantly_."

"Then please don't go with him."

"Charles, what I'm saying is that I can handle myself; this is my job, I've been trained to do these things." Meryl paused. She couldn't stand his sad eyes. She hugged him. "I'll be okay. Just remember I'm friends with Vash-"

"-That's one reason I'm worried."

"-What I mean is there are a handful of people in this world that have the skill to kill him, and trust me, he wouldn't let anyone get hurt, even me. I promised I'll write to you at least twice a week, and when I come back, you can have me all you want." She held him tighter. The warmth of his body made her realize how chill the air was and when she breathed in his scent, she remembered some of the best times of her life.

….

Clint poked and stirred the dying fire. The flames grasped the moment of reawakening with fresh oxygen

"Millie, please don't tell Meryl anything," Vash requested.

"That's your job, Vash," she answered.

A soft sound of walking interrupted their thoughts. Looking up into the darkness, they spotted the white cat prowling in and out of view.

"It's Rade," Knives announced, breaking the heavy silence. He reached for his gun, but kept it out of sight, watching the creature.

"Don't kill it," Vash insisted.

"If anyone is going to die, it's going to be you. What the heck are you doing Vash? Get down!"

Vash didn't need help getting pushed out of sight, but Clint took the initiative. He shoved Vash to the other side of the tent.

"Little Chame-Matt lost his cat," Knives growled, scanning the dark.

Millie followed Clint and Vash away from the dying fire and into her tent. It was darker in the tent. The translucent fabric filtered the majority of any remaining light. Bundles of sleeping bags were fit in the middle.

"Is that awful man here?" Millie whispered.

"Maybe," Vash answered.

"He's destroying plants, the last thing we want is Vash infected." Clint told her.

"What about Knives?"

"Him too…" Clint answered with a worried frown.

They listened for more movement. After feeling secure that nothing had happened, Millie spoke again. "He got me sick, that terrible sickness, no one knew what it was."

Clint nodded. "It was the same thing, but it affected you differently because you're human. It can't kill you, and now you're immune to it."

"But why did he do that?" Vash thought out loud. "Why would Chame inject her like that?"

Millie remembered him apologizing for it. "It's all for Nick and Chapel." She said with a hurt voice. "He wants revenge."

"Then why does he have to kill of these plants?" Vash asked, still a whisper. "Why not just come straight for us? Is he toying with us?"

"Maybe he is trying to get you worked up, or showing off what he can do to scare you." Clint suggested.

Vash wondered, 'is it my fault they're dead?' But the thought left almost as fast as it came; movement reached his ears.

Someone was coming. Immediately Knives pulled out his gun and aimed. Two people…a man and a woman.

Meryl and Charles froze when the outline of Knives was noticeable.

Knives cursed them and lowered his gun. "Had to go have love now?"

"Excuse me?" Meryl lowered her eyebrows in disgust and anger. "We were having a _conversation_."

"A _conversation?_" Knives snarled with a small dose of sarcasm. He kept his ears open for more noise.

"Yeah. No one said we need permission. Even if we were, it's none of your business." Meryl growled.

Knives rolled his eyes. "If you're going to give me a lecture, make it important. Stop talking about nothing and be qui-et." Knives eyes darted from her to a shape yards away them. It was a rigid figure of a man.

Meryl watched him inquisitively. Then to her surprise, he charged at her and Charles. She hardly had time to react as Knives reached them.

"Get down!" He hissed.

She felt a fierce push from him, her feet came out from under her, and she hit the ground on her forearms. Twisting to find the culprit, she came to the realization that Knives wasn't after her at all. The rigid figure had begun running the moment Knives set foot passed her.

Knives was on Chame's trail until he turned south and disappeared from view. Frozen, Knives opened his mind to him; searching for Chame. The process took a moment, but he sensed the demon still on the move, still in the camp. Knives turned right and began to quicken his pace again. Chame was nearing the eastern edge of the campground. He struggled to keep his mind pinpointed on him, and as Knives broke out into a run, Chame shut him out completely.

It was several more seconds of running before Knives came to a stop.

"Keh! Demon…" He said with distaste.

Chame had been the only one who knew how to shut Knives out of his mind. It was what made it so difficult for Legato to track him down after he had fled the first time. His unique ability made him nearly impossible to track.

Knives returned to his brother over an hour later. He had searched through the camp, but Chame and Rade were nowhere to be found.

"They're gone," he informed Vash. "But I think everyone should keep their guard up."

Vash spread the word.

"That man, he's causing all this?" Charles confronted Vash. He stepped in front of Meryl and stared into the outlaw's face with bravery.

Vash nodded.

"And you're going after him?" He asked.

"Yes, I must."

Charles glanced at Meryl before turning to Knives. "And you pushed her down." A hint if dislike was in his voice.

"Some don't want to risk losing her." He answered, eyes gleaming critically.

Charles studied him.

"_Charles_." Meryl grabbed his arm.

"Don't worry," Clint interrupted. "We'll keep Meryl safe."

"Yes. I've been trained, Charles. And I'm going with them." Meryl said.

Charles' emotion deflated, and he turned to Meryl. For a moment he considered going with her but…he had his siblings to look after. Instead he mentioned something else to Meryl. "You're wedding plans, and all I could get- I sent them to my aunt's."

Meryl's eyes sparked. "My wedding dress?" It was the sweetest surprise she had had all day.

"Yes, of course."

"You're not supposed to see that!" She chided and teased.

"I kept it covered…"

"And you didn't look?"

"I did peek," he admitted, reluctant.

It was nearly and hour later before everyone was finally settled for sleep. The girls were in their tent, Charles and his family in the other, and Vash, Knives, and Clint slept in front of them under the stars.

Shifting in her sleep, Millie dreamed uncomfortably. A sense of anxiety swept her for most of it. Wolwood was dying, and after several seconds of darkness, she saw his face again… getting closer and closer to her. He was saying something, but she couldn't understand. His vocal chords brought up the volume louder and louder until with a sharp sound she realized it was her name. _Millie!_ The priest snapped. It came into her mind so loud that she jerked awake.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness; her dream had been bright and livid. Staring into the ceiling of her tent, she realized how quiet it could get in the middle of the night and how upset her stomach was. The voice seemed so real, and she wondered for a minute if it indeed was only in her dream or if someone had actually called for her, their voice intertwined with her visions. Meryl was still asleep; Millie could hear her deep breathing.

Millie rolled over trying to rid her stomach of its clenching. Now she stared at the side of the tent. A second later she depicted a dark black shape through the tent's partly translucent wall. Her skin prickled as she stared at the shape. From her position, the curves looked capable of outlining a man crouched on the ground. She watched, waiting for the slightest movement. Was it he own mind displaying the now profound shape? She remembered as a child imagining shapes in her room to look like monsters or men, but when she had flipped on her light switch, they were nothing more than bundle of clothes or toys. Millie stared at the shape for a long time. It didn't move, but she felt too unconvinced to fall asleep. After her stomach did another acrobatic motion, she freed herself of the tangling blankets, and crawled to the opening of her tent. To her relief, Vash, Knives, and Clint were all still sleeping. Surely they would wake if anyone came…

Vash stirred. His eyes flickered and opened. He sat up. "Millie?" He asked, spotting her. "Is everything all right?"

She looked to her right.

Vash followed her eyes. He looked back her confused. "What?" He mouthed.

"Anything over there?" She mouthed back. She glanced back inside the tent. The shadow was gone.

Vash watched her.

She looked back at him unsure.

He crept out of his sleeping bag and prowled out of view. After several minutes he returned. "I didn't see anything," he told her. "What was it?"

"I don't know…I thought I saw someone."

"I'll keep a look out," Vash promised. "It will be sunrise soon anyway."

When Millie woke up again it was light. Everyone was fine, and right away she asked Vash if he had seen anything.

"No, whatever it was, it's gone." He answered.

"Do you think it was Chame?" She asked.

"I don't know, I didn't see anything," Vash answered truthfully.

"Where are we going to go next?" Millie asked, with a slight lighter tune.

"December again. The orphanage; we have no way of knowing where Chame is going to strike next. If we go there, I think we'll at least find something of value… if we can get inside."

Millie nodded and retreated back into the tent. She hoped the owners of the orphanage would be more open with them this time. She wanted to see the children, and even more than that, a part of her knew something more was there…


	14. The Orphan and Priests

They were on another bus. Nearly everyone was asleep which amplified the rumbling of the engine. Knives had secluded himself across the aisle, his face looking more delicate than it had in a long time. After struggling to get comfortable, Clint slept while leaning on Vash. And Millie was exercising a similar technique with Meryl, who, like Vash, was awake.

Vash hadn't said much to Meryl the last few days. Her last thrash left him a distance away to regain his confidence. He considered this, and leaned forward.

"Long bus ride…"

Meryl turned her head to look at him. "I wasn't going to ride a Sandsteamer. Every time I get on one something goes wrong." She gave him a reproachful eye.

"Tell me about it."

"Do you really think they'll tell us something different at the orphanage? Last time they wouldn't have anything to do with us."

"If we play our cards right, I think it will depend mainly on how close Chame was to Wolfwood."

Doubtful, she didn't say anything.

Vash wanted to seize the moment to bring up something happier and lighter for her to talk about, but he could think of anything that didn't involve Charles, but donuts.

Millie snored softly.

Pushing hesitation away, Vash asked Meryl what her favorite food was.

With suspicion, Meryl's eyes studied the outlaw's face.

"Just for conversation… it's too quiet." He admitted.

Meryl took this in and answered. "I don't think I have a favorite…but I do like chocolate," she said awkwardly. "Are you hungry or something?"

Once the idea was brought up, Vash's stomach appeared to agree. "Yeah, I guess I am."

He heard Meryl rummage around before she returned with a package of crackers.

"It's not much," she said as she held it out for him.

They touched hands briefly as Vash grasped the package. Once the package was securely in his hand Meryl quickly moved hers away. Her mind began panicking. She faced forward again as her heart began to beat heavier.

"I'm going to sleep." She announced abruptly.

"Auh-" Vash started, but let the words dissipate in his brain. "…okay."

Because Meryl was so disappointed with her emotions, she didn't find the disappointment in his voice. Slowly, her alarming heart regained its beating pattern. What was going on? She didn't have feelings for Vash anymore… How could she? She was engaged! She didn't love him anymore. Er! These feeling for him are supposed to be gone!

A crunch let Meryl know Vash had popped a cracker in his mouth.

Was it because she missed Charles that her sudden attraction took place? She always missed Charles…but not _that_ bad. When she was walking to the camp just outside of Sunset, she had had this sudden flutter. But that time she really wanted to see Charles, and she was so tired.

She wasn't tired now…just a little restless from the bus ride.

Distressed, she leaned her head against the window.

Vash crunched into another cracker. Crumbs fell onto Clint's sleeping head

"Stop it," Clint half answered. Eyes still closed behind tainted glass, he subconsciously wiped them off. Then he proceeded to try to make himself more comfortable.

It would have been humorous to drop more crumbs onto Clint's face, but once Vash notice how serene he looked, he thought against it.

Vash continued to stare at the teenager, until a sudden curiosity probed his mind. Half with a father's interest, he carefully slipped off the dark sunglasses. Without warning, a sudden overwhelming sensation occupied his stomach. After gently moving back Clint's bangs, he began to study the face more clearly. He looked so much like Vash, his nose, chin, forehead, eyebrow, lips, and the shape of his eyes… but as Vash studied further, he could see the undertone of Meryl in very few places; his hairline and hair type were hers to claim. Once he realized this, he quickly glanced at the backside of Meryl's head as if afraid she would turn and notice the features that resembled her. When he was confident she had no desire to suddenly glance back, he returned to the halcyon face.

Without warning, the essence of fatherhood sprung into him. Clint really was his son. He had Vash's genes, his blood, and his life. That, in some time in space he, Vash, had read him bed time stories, kept away monsters from under the bed, brought home sunglasses, taught him to love, and he was once sitting- or probably pacing- in the hospital's waiting room, worrying about his son and Meryl. Clint would always be watching Vash, and it was critical to be a good example… so much responsibility for one life, but he wanted it, even if for a short while.

….

"Back in December," Meryl sighed. She stepped off the bus and onto the dirt ground. Millie followed behind her.

"I've spent enough time here to call it my home," Millie said thoughtfully.

Clint spotted the emptiness; streets were bare and shops were closed. "Looks like nearly everyone left."

Then with a rush of air, a stampede of feet was heard in the other direction. In desperation, a large crowd ran pell-mell for the bus doors. Clint and the others dodged out of the way as the crowd overpowered them and scrambled onto the bus. A cry from the bus driver was heard as he ordered pay, and the doors were triggered to a close.

"I spoke to soon, _now_ nearly everyone has left."

It wasn't hard to find a hotel with vacancies, but it was difficult to find one that was still open. They passed five before reaching the large grey one with a crooked _open_ sign hanging on the door. Inside, scratchy quiet music filled the air, and a man behind a desk put down his paperback book.

"I was almost going to close, but I found this was the only way I could make enough money to leave." The owner told them. His large mustache made up for the lack of hair on his head.

"We're grateful you're still around," Vash answered, handing him the essential amount of money. "And you can keep the change."

Meryl wondered why Vash always had money to spare. He handed it out like it was sand. She pocketed the idea when the room key was handed to her.

"We get electricity between afternoon and dusk," the man informed. "And because of the lack of plant power, we only have cold water available."

Meryl turned to leave with Millie, but decided against it when Vash asked the man a question.

"Do you know anything about the orphanage near here?"

"It was founded by a priest years back, he was still young when he started it, but he left some years back. There are still children and people there I'm sure. I don't know what they'll do. I'm sure they're up fer business though."

"Oh, no! I was just wondering if anything unusual ever happened there."

"Unusual? What do you mean?"

"Never mind," Vash concluded.

"I wouldn't know, it's so isolated."

"Thank you for the rooms."

….

Later that evening, Vash, Knives, Clint, Millie, and Meryl, found themselves passed the outskirts of town in front of the poignant orphanage. Cracked windows bared down; it looked gaunt and uninhabited.

Millie brought her fist up and hit it on the door.

"Who is it?" A familiar voice rang from inside.

"Millie Thompson." She stated.

"Are you alone?"

"No, I'm here with friends, friends of Nicholas D. Wolfwood"

"What do you want?" The woman's voice sounded tense and terse.

"Please, Miss," Vash addressed. "We're of no harm, we want to talk to you." He said soothingly.

There was no answer.

"Please, we need help…"

The door handle clicked and the door creaked open.

They recognized the blue haired woman from before, and it was evident she recognized them. She attempted to shut the door, but Vash grabbed its edge and prevented it with little strength. She looked up at Vash in fright.

"Sandra?" Another voice entered the air, this one was an old woman's, it sounded dusty and warm. "Who's at the door?"

"Friends of Nick," the blue haired woman answered savagely.

"Friends?" the voice was closer now. "He's dead." She moved in the doorway, and Vash could see that she looked in her late 50's. Her hair was still pure honey brown and she was surprisingly thin.

"Yes, we know, but can we talk with you?" Clint asked.

After hesitation, the woman agreed and brought them inside. With a heavy load of reluctance, Sandra stepped aside for them.

The older woman led them into the worn-out kitchen with ease while Sandra sulked at the rear of the line. Walls were bare in the kitchen, and Vash had a feeling that the cupboards were close to it as well. Meryl sat down at the table and began studying the crayon sketches that embellished its surface. Clint, Millie, and Knives seated themselves as well.

"Wolfwood…" the older woman recalled. She opened a lower cupboard and pulled out the stout sauce pan. "He was a good man amongst his troubles." She placed the pan on the small stove. "Would you like some hot chocolate?"

Hot chocolate was delicious, but out of question at the moment. No one could accept it without slight guilt.

"No, we'll pass," Clint answered.

Vash sat down next to him as the woman poured some milk in the pan for herself and Sandra. "Confused and dangerous…" She said.

"Wolfwood wasn't dangerous!" Sandra erupted, but the woman ignored her.

"He did try to follow his beliefs; I wonder why he didn't shoot that other priest, if he had, he may still be alive."

Vash listened to every word.

"Wolfwood didn't want to kill anymore people," Millie explained.

Vash wasn't concerned about justifying Wolfwood's actions, but curious as to how this woman knew of Chapel.

After remembering Millie's mention of Chame's closeness with Wolfwood, he went straight to the question. "Do you know anyone by the name of Chame?" Vash asked.

"Chame? No, who is he?"

"No child that grew up here?"

"No, but I'll check the files," the woman moved to a filing cabinet placed in the corner of the kitchen for lack of space. She retrieved a silver key from her pocket and opened a drawer.

Everyone watched her finger through the folders, Vash thinking harder as he studied the doubt on the woman's face. Knives had said something else the other night… he used a different name…

"Matt," Vash said. He dared not look at Knives.

The woman paused mid-flip, and Sandra looked uneasy.

"Is there a Matt?" Vash asked.

Without looking for the name, the woman shut the filing cabinet. They waited as she scooped warm milk into two mugs, then she proceeded to stir in a small amount of chocolate mix.

Knives looked out the window, interested in the forth coming conversation, but yet wished to prevent it.

"Matthew." The woman turned back to her guests. "You know him? In what relation?"

"They must be with that other man," Sandra accused. "That other priest!"

The other woman handed Sandra a mug and stationed herself near the table.

"We mean no harm to you," Meryl assured. "We just don't want harm to come to anyone else."

To Meryl's surprised, the old woman looked down at her and smiled. "You have naïve dreams. You can't keep someone safe without causing harm to someone else; I do long for such a place to rest my head."

"There won't be a place if we don't keep trying to build it." Clint told her.

"I gave up on such efforts. It's hard in circumstances to believe anything anymore."

Silently, Knives agreed.

"I don't take pride in Chapel," Vash shared.

"It's not just the priest." The woman pointed out.

"Or Legato."

"Don't speak such names," Sandra looked away.

"Wolfwood wouldn't want people to die," Millie said. "I know he wouldn't!"

The woman smiled at Millie as if finding the gold hidden away in her. The emotion displayed in Millie's voice brought the woman to a quiet realization of who exactly Millie was. After studying Millie, she looked down at her hot chocolate. "I'm sorry Sandra, it would seem Wolfwood couldn't reject love forever. The proof is sitting in front of me."

The blue haired girl gasped and made eye-contact with Millie. "Hugh!" She turned away from Millie's blue eyes, wondering at what point in time her Wolfwood had realized this love.

After taking a sip of steaming chocolate, the woman continued.

"Matthew was sold," The woman breathed. "To Legato."

"By who?" Meryl asked with shock.

"Nicholas."

Millie and Meryl felt like their hearts had jumped out of their throats.

"Wolfwood?" Meryl stammered.

The woman nodded.

Vash watched intently.

"He had no choice." The woman explained.

"No choice…?" Clint repeated with dislike under his breath.

"You would have too. I didn't know about Nicholas, but years ago there was a change in him. He was strained, like a dog developing rabies; ready to thrash out and attack with bearing teeth, but pitiful in becoming aware of his circumstances. He wouldn't tell anyone what was wrong, not a soul. He would disappear for days. Then on an ordinary afternoon," she paused for a breath. "We found two of our orphans, completely mangled, and so much blood."

"Bobby and Tisha," Sandra frowned.

"There were holes all over their bodies. Someone had killed them when they were outside playing. What kind of a sick person would do such a thing? As I wondered, and cried, the founder of this orphanage cursed in frustration at whoever had done such things. I asked him about it, flabbergasted he was involved with such matters, but he nipped at me with gnashing teeth. Before I knew it, he was racing back inside. I followed after him, still in shock.

"_There's no way of escaping it_, he told me, framed in the doorway; frustration beginning to pour out as sadness. He turned to face the other children who were oblivious to such circumstances, but Wolfwood looked at them with sinking eyes; odd, almost chilling to see him look at them so empty. He was or had been always happy to see them, but he analyzed them with these new eyes.

"The children stopped playing and called out to him, asking what was wrong. He didn't answer of course, but they all surrounded him in empathy. He smiled weakly at them. It all hurt and made no sense to me.

"Matthew was the keenest of the children. He caught on better than I did on the situation. He volunteered to do it, so it wouldn't happen again. So no one else would die. _I won't let you down Nick!_ He promised to be brave, and he promised to be strong. Wolfwood said Matthew was going to be adopted, but I wonder if it was to comfort us or himself.

"It was a very sentimental goodbye when the other man, Chapel, came for Matthew. There was some secret between the three of them, I still don't know what it was. Chapel proved to be a somewhat good man, like Wolfwood, tangled in something much larger, much more powerful."

"Did Wolfwood know Chapel from before?" Meryl asked, surprised.

"It appears so." The woman took another sip of hot chocolate.

"What happened to Matt?" Vash asked.

"I don't know."

"Did you see him again?"

She nodded.

He waited for the story, but it didn't come. "When?" He asked.

"Whenever he is near."

"Is he the one behind what's going on?" Vash asked.

"I think you already know the answer. I don't know what they did to him, but he was tangled too, and when the web was free from him, the aftershock left him looking for more."

"Aren't you afraid?" Clint questioned her. "For everyone who's going to die because of him?"

"Afraid? I'm more afraid of suppertime, of children falling ill."

"There are doctors, but there's nothing that can stop this man that's killing off thousands of people." Clint continued.

"You say that because you have parents, and money, you even go to school." She scoffed. "You don't know what we go through. You've never walked in our shoes."

"I don't care, you can't justify death; it's impossible! It's murder letting him run loose. Cities and towns are being wiped out."

The woman looked at Clint with dislike and agitation. "Oh, and you think I have the power to stop him?"

"You must have some sort of influence on him!" Clint glared. His sharp stern eyebrows and stiff expression made Vash feel uncomfortable. And Meryl would agree, he looked no longer like Vash, but resembled Knives with his terse features.

"I'm growing old, and Matthew is at a fresh age. Sandra is the only one here to help me with this orphanage. The money we have is little… Matthew is both a blessing and a curse."

This information didn't phase Clint's frustration.

Meryl pondered. "Are you telling us in murder he is gaining money?" She asked. "My gosh!" She grasped Vash's collar and pointed to him. "He'll donate the wretched money!"

The woman laughed at Meryl. "Not enough to bring us out of debt and buy us food. There's more to it, but you wouldn't understand that either."

"Like what?" Clint asked darkly.

"It's getting very late," Sandra pointed out.

"Yes," the woman agreed, ignoring the teenager.

"Thank you," Vash said as he moved out of his chair. Knives watched him out of the corner of his eye. "May we stop by tomorrow?"

"And see the children?" Millie added.

The woman hesitated, and glanced at Clint, but she nodded in agreement.

Knives and the others slipped through the door, right under her nose. It was almost humorous how _he, _the one responsible for the chaos, was here with her, and yet she didn't have the slightest idea who he was, nor Vash, nor anyone less here. She was an easy target if needed.

Silence was so heavy between them (with either concentration or a broken heart) that it was nearly impossible to make their lead legs move, and impossible to move their mouths.

Vash walked next to his brother with discomfort. Chapel… Legato… all of it, Knives knew what was going on, but he hadn't told Vash anything. He was placed on the fine line between Vash and Chame, once in a while he would toe a side. It worried Vash to think that at anytime he could corrupt either side. Eventually Knives would choose his side- he had to, and if he agreed to Vash, he would be a benefit, but he disagreed, he would be a serious force of opposition. More than ever it was important to befriend him. But it Chame was after revenge, why didn't Knives retreat to Vash's side? Wasn't Chame out to kill Knives?

Matthew was adopted by Chapel through Wolfwood, who was obviously threatened into it with murder, which means Wolfwood didn't want to adopt a child out. Chapel was one of the Gung-ho-guns working with Legato. He killed Wolfwood (who knew where Knives was), but yet Chame (assuming Matt received that name like gung-ho-guns… "Nine lives" "Monev the Gale" "The Puppet Master") wants to avenge both priests. So Chapel was obviously killed back in the tangle, after he killed Wolfwood. Right? Unless Chapel didn't kill Wolfwood… Vash wasn't sure who fired the bullet, but last he knew, Wolfwood was fighting Chapel. Earlier Chapel was assumed to be a good man trapped in a web, so Chame must be going after the weavers…after Knives. Vash himself had or would die from the virus Chame is putting out… how was he a weaver?

Vash's mind continued to whirl with thoughts

Did Chame even mean to kill Vash? Or… the bounty! The $$60 billion for the orphanage!

It was starting to become very confusing, yet more specified. Vash found his thoughts wandering in circles; most were assumptions with a lot of gaps. He wondered why the Gung-ho-guns needed a kid in the first place, and he also pondered upon Rade, the albino cat.

Easily, everyone kept their minds preoccupied. When they reached their rooms, they only muttered goodnight between the genders, and heavily went inside each room.

Inside, Knives slumped on a bed, his manner told Vash he was in a bitter mood.

Clint wanted to speak, but didn't dare break the silence that lingered so heavily; he was afraid to corrupt the crucial thoughts of his father.

Millie and Meryl were in a similar silence. When the door was shut with a snap, Meryl sat on the bed and began to take off her shoes, spending extra time with each lace. She brushed her hair behind her ear and tried to come up with an excuse to prolong the silence. Finally both her shoes were off, and as she proceeded to the sink, Millie broke it. The silence was sliced in two with a melancholy remark, as melancholy as Millie generally ever got.

"I wish he was still alive."

Meryl didn't say anything. The air was heavier now; it pressed down on her. She lost her breath for a moment, and then answered. "I think we all do."

Meryl saw Millie smile, obviously caught in some memory of the priest's past, but then her eyes sparkled with a dash of liquid. "You should grasp the moment. Sometimes it's better than to never know…the truth. I don't know his life history, but that doesn't make you love someone. You can learn about someone without words, with love, actions really do speak louder. He had a good strong will, he just forgot how to live until he met Vash. I don't think Wolfwood ever disliked Vash… he disliked himself, and was reminded by Vash."

A speck of anger slithered in Meryl; it wasn't Vash's fault either, he didn't mean for Wolfwood to feel that way. The speck of anger withered away. None of that mattered anymore…it didn't matter, Wolfwood was dead, and they couldn't change it. But they did have to deal with the continual involvement- the sneaky reminders that crept up with a wisp of smoke from a cigarette, or gaunt stare of a nearby church. The past horrors would never fully escape them.

….

"Knives, Clint and I are going for a walk," Vash announced.

This caught Clint off guard, but the words had as much affect on Knives as would telling the sink. Vash's twin was staring up at the ceiling, arms folded against chest, as he lay on the mattress.

Unsure, Clint followed Vash out the door. The air was considerably cooler and a very shy breeze skimmed their skin. Like the rest of the noiseless evening, Clint felt it was required to stay quiet. Before wandering too far along the sidewalk, Clint plucked the courage to send an inquisitive expression to Vash, who returned it with a mirror image. Apprehension and puzzlement over took Clint, and a part of him knew he wouldn't like the upcoming conversation.

Vash looked uncomfortable. He stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at the eroded sidewalk. "I've never had to do this parenting stuff," he admitted.

His comment made Clint smile.

"I've been thinking… and I don't mean to criticize…But I decided if my kid- well, my kid is away from home- I would want him to be _looked after_." Vash struggled for the right words. He never dreamed it would be hard to say such phrases. He gave parents credit for their hard work.

Clint cocked an eyebrow, trying to understand.

"You are my responsibility to teach."

"Yes…?"

Vash took a deep breath. He'd wing the words. "Lots of people have different ways and beliefs. They've been raised different, and I've finally realized it's best not to jump on them."

Clint stared.

Vash paused. "Am I making any sense?"

"I guess…" he answered reluctantly.

Vash thought for a moment. "At the orphanage, you attacked the woman-"

"But other innocent people are dying! They shouldn't have to suffer for that! It's wrong!" Clint thrashed at Vash.

Vash put his hands up. "Of course they shouldn't!" He had no intention of attacking Clint. "I know you were just justifying your beliefs, and I know it's wrong."

"But other people will die!"

Clint waited for Vash, who was struggling to find a new approach, to make his next move…it felt like Clint was daring him. He was tempted to forget the whole event and buy Clint ice cream, but unfortunately that wouldn't be right either. Vash made a note to himself to praise the parents who stick to parenting over friendship.

"We should always do whatever possible to keep someone alive," Vash agreed. "But if we attack someone to justify, it might actually make it worse. The truth is we don't know what they're going through, or how far they have come. They may even be working to become better as we beat them down." Clint's silence made Vash more self conscious, but he continued. "I had a friend I did that to; I was very hard on him, but I still don't know half his story. He was a confusing character."

"Wolfwood?" Clint asked in disappointment.

"Yeah…" Vash answered. Not only was Wolfwood a victim of Vash judgmental behavior, but Knives used to be as well. Vash had noticed whenever he had corrected Knives, life ended up harsher and more damage was distributed than the need called for.

"I've had this lecture before," Clint said, and attached a sigh.

"Oh…" Vash answered, unsure.

"I made a mistake; I didn't listen to you. I shouldn't have jumped on her. It's not her fault, she didn't sell the kid. I'm sorry," he apologized. "It's too hard to be like you, you're so perfect. It's hard to remember."

"Slow down, I'm not perfect at all!" Vash insisted.

"It was wrong of me to blow up too…but I've been stressed."

"Don't worry about it."

"But I should have known better today… I always mess up it seems like…at school especially." Clint answered heavily.

"Do you have hard classes?" Vash wondered.

"Uh-uh," he shook his head. "It's the people I have a hard time with. I feel like a loser and a loner there."

They turned around a corner, onto another street.

"Do you ever talk to anyone?" Vash inquired.

"Ha! I'm too shy."

This surprised Vash. Neither he nor Meryl seemed to be the shy type, but it did take a while to open up because of circumstances.

"Everyone knows there's something wrong with me." Clint shared.

"There's nothing wrong with you!" Vash stopped walking.

Clint stopped too, and gave Vash a look of disbelief. "I'm either a drug addict or diseased, and I am never categorized by anything other than sunglasses."

Vash felt his heart crumble, and a connective guilt leaked back into place. Carefully, he removed Clint's sunglasses. He had become used to the blank eyes now. They glowed, reflecting the moon's light. Because his eyes were so spacious, they appeared to be double the size of others' eyes. Staring at them had once been frightening, but they looked beautiful now.

"It doesn't matter what other people think," Vash insisted. "I have $$60 billion on my head, and I'm still happy. The people who really love you… they won't care."

"There is one person who talks to me sometimes at school, but she talks to everyone." Clint admitted.

"What's her name?" Vash asked, and they began walking again.

"Emily McAllister."

"McAllister… Dan McAllister's kid?" Vash inquired.

"Yes, do you know him?"

"You could say that." He answered.

Dan McAllister was a teenager who used to live on the flying ship. Vash had talked to him plenty of times. He was fun and spunky. His kid had better be nice to Clint…

Vash observed the streets of December with reverence. The buildings look ancient now. Crumbled, they would live out the rest of their lives in a mangled frame. Few were inhabited, making them appear even more like an antique than necessary. Chame was out there, creating this venomous disease.

"You do know how to get home, right?" Vash asked.

"Kind of… I was hoping you and Knives could find a way."

"It's really dangerous, I don't want you to get killed. I can't bear it. I wouldn't let my son be exposed to such things."

"No kidding," Clint frowned. "I never even knew why you had a bounty until I asked the Meryl here, nor do I understand half the things my uncle Knives talks about…but if you're trying to send me home, that would be a bad idea. A lot of plants are being infected, have died, or are clear out of our way at the moment. It would be very dangerous and reckless to send me home in such conditions. What if I get home by a plant that is infected?"

"I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'll be okay, as far as I'm concerned, I'll learn a lot of important stuff. Sometimes you have to face fears and doubts to learn and grow. I want to know what is out there, because no one ever tells me."

The fact Clint wanted to travel and witness this life blew Vash away. Murders, death, rapists, fear that's what was out there in the world. Little love was found on this quest… but that love which was found was amazing, and for a moment, Vash could forget the worries of the world in it. Maybe it was understandable to have this adventurous desire, but Vash felt nothing of it. He was tired of it. He was obligated to chase and run from danger because he was involved with it all. If only he could live quietly…

….

Under the blankets now, Knives stared into his mind. Clint and Vash still hadn't returned, and even if they had, he wouldn't let them interrupt his thinking. Maybe Vash was telling Clint about him, or cautioning the teenager to be on guard because he was involved with it all. Knives didn't want to be confronted by Vash. It was one of the few things he had made his mind up about. He loathed being with his brother, but quite a bit of his hatred had subsided. Although Knives always left the door for murder open, he no longer wished Vash severe torture.

When he last conversed with Chame inside Sunset city, he bid Knives to meet him the sunset after the destruction…but he didn't go. So much had happened since then, like the revelation of Clint's identity. In not meeting Chame, had he closed a door?

Where did he want to go?

Knives could even tell Vash and the others all about Wolfwood- how he was a gung-ho-gun, how he was raised by Chapel, how Chapel joined him (Knives) and Wolfwood rebelled. If it hadn't been for the money, Wolfwood wouldn't have ever joined. In addition to Wolfwood Knives could spill secrets of Chame, his love life, his usage, his orders, his blood type, but if he did, he would be shutting a door.

If Knives shut the door, did that mean he had to become his brother?


	15. Reaping Service

The next morning, Millie quickly dressed, brushed her hair and teeth, and applied a small amount of make-up while Meryl slowly combed through her hair in deep thought. She brushed over the same area for nearly a minute before Millie asked her how she was doing.

"I woke up feeling a little worried," Meryl admitted. "I'm not sure why, it's not rational, but I'm worried about Clint. I just wonder about him…"

"I could run next door and make sure he's safe," Millie immediately offered.

"Oh, I'm sure he's fine." Meryl waved the idea away. She finished brushing her hair and slapped the brush down on the dresser. "It's everything! His medication, his sunglasses, his _mirror_ image. Something isn't right, Millie!"

"Have you asked Vash or Clint about it?" Millie said, and sat herself on the edge of a bed. Meryl watched it sink down from her weight.

"Not really…at least not outspoken and directly, but do you think that they would tell me if I did? Vash has a nasty habit of hiding important information from us- like the fact he was a plant and Knives was his brother."

"But he did tell you."

"Yes, but it was a little late; I waited a long time for that information." Meryl went to the sink, opened a bottle of toothpaste and squirted a small amount onto her toothbrush. As she began to brush her teeth, Millie pondered.

"He's not related to Vash, but they look so much alike."

"And Knives," Meryl added through a thick layer of foam.

"They're in the same category with their features… Meryl…. Maybe Clint is a plant."

Meryl quickly spit her toothpaste out. Immediately she was reminded of the odd reactions with the plants in Sunset. When Clint was angry, the plants' energy levels were going high. In animal species, it was traditional for them to have similar coats, and even if there were a variety of colors, two could look the same without being related. A black cat is similar with another black cat, even if they aren't related by blood.

She finished rinsing out her mouth, wiped her lips with a maroon towel, and turned back to Millie.

"Maybe you're right, Millie. Vash has a quiet nature about plants. Do you think he's a plant? Oh, but plants heal really fast, and Clint is always falling ill…" Meryl pointed out.

Someone knocked on their hotel door.

"You gals ready?" Vash's voice sounded.

"Nearly," Meryl replied and scrambled for her shoes.

"You should ask him, Meryl." Millie said quietly.

Meryl pocketed the idea in the back of her mind.

Once outside, Meryl wished she had never left the room. The air was nippy with chill breezes that made her skin prickle. Because of this factor, they made it to the orphanage in half the amount of time it took them last night. With a lighter attitude than yesterday, they knocked on the door. Warm air snuck out to welcome them as the door was pulled open. The woman from last night showed them inside.

Millie rubbed her hands to warm her blood as the woman led them in the opposite direction of the kitchen. Once they reached a long hallway, they found several curious children peering out from behind doors. They stared at the strangers.

"Don't be shy," Millie spoke. "We're friends of Wolfwood."

Everyone was taken aback by the reaction the words received. A plethora of orphans lit up and bounded for them. More peeked out, curious at the sudden disturbance of adult voices.

Knives stepped away from the commotion inanimately. He backed against the wall and watched a small crowd beginning to form around his brother as the woman introduced the company.

One dark haired child mentioned the fact that they hadn't had company in ages, and was even more surprised to find the guests as playmates.

Clint watched quietly until a six year old walked up to him. "Name's Dakoma. Do you play Cops and Robbers?"

"No…"

"Wanna play? We'll teacha!" Dakoma suggested.

Vash, who was watching, gave Clint a little push. "Go have some fun; it will be good for you."

"C'mon," Dakoma tugged at Clint's shirt.

Self-conscious, Clint followed the youngster. He watched Vash wave a goodbye to him until he disappeared from sight.

"Lauvie, can we go outside to play today?" A child asked the woman.

"As long as one of these adults is out there too," she replied.

After spending a few hours with the children, Vash and Meryl offered to help with some much needed cleaning. They were assigned several tasks, and then the woman, Lauvie, turned to Millie.

"This way please, Millie. I want you to come with me."

Millie followed the woman down the long narrow hall until she finally stopped at the very last door. Unlike the other doors, this one was free of any coloring or stains. It was graying, but had a significant respect about it. Lauvie opened it. Inside, it was easily recognized as a closet, with ordinary shelves containing ordinary items and supplies. The woman reached the top shelf for a shoe box. She blew dust off it and brought it and Millie into the bedroom across the hall. Within a few moments, Millie realized it was the woman's room.

Lauvie placed the box on the lonely dresser and began to carefully peel away yellowing tape.

"Some of his things left behind," she explained. "I hadn't looked at them as often as Sandra, but maybe they'll have value to you."

She took off the lid.

….

Meanwhile Vash and Meryl were tackling the kitchen.

"Haven't you ever washed an oven before?" Meryl asked Vash, who was covered in black burnt crumbs.

"In all honesty, no." He continued scrubbing, putting too much elbow grease into the chore.

"Give me that before you cook yourself alive!" Meryl ordered. She went for the wash cloth, ducking into the sandstorm of black debris in the oven.

"But I want to wash it." Vash frowned.

Meryl finally retrieved the rag from the outlaw and pulled Vash out with herself.

"First you put it on safety," Meryl explained, and turned the little knob. "And it's a lot easier to scrub with a scrub brush." She pulled a slightly frayed one from the sink and handed it to him. Then she pulled him back into the oven. Holding the white-bristled brush she demonstrated the correct way of cleaning ovens. "Scrub like this."

Vash observed.

Meryl handed him the cleaning utensil.

"This way?" Vash asked.

"No," Meryl retrieved the brush again. "Like _this_," she demonstrated.

"This?" Vash asked when he gained the brush for the second time.

"No," Meryl slapped her hand over his. "Like _this!_" She moved his hand in the proper technique, scrubbing away all sign of scum.

"Meryl?" Vash asked with a serious tone.

In a blink of an eye, she pulled her hand away, offended with her confused mind and creeping thoughts.

"I know, I have rough hands," Vash apologized. In such circumstances he had developed a knack of being self conscious. He had this problem with Meryl sometimes, but lately it had been making itself home in the back of his mind.

"It's not your hands," she answered with embarrassment. "Your hands are fine." She didn't want to make him apologize; she should be the one to apologize for her behavior and cruelty.

"Are you okay?" Vash asked.

'Please don't be so sincere.' "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

Meryl hesitated, giving away her lie. "I just remembered, I need to hurry and wash the dishes for dinner."

"It's time to start on dinner?"

"Nearly."

"Then I better get this scrubbed," Vash noted as Meryl left for the sink.

'I don't understand it,' she thought. 'Why would I still have feelings for him? I don't…why am I so confused?'

She picked up a dirty pan.

….

By now Clint had found himself inside a bedroom full of bunk beds, each of which were left unmade and unwashed. Any furniture in the room was either victim to chips or dents. The carpet he and Dakoma sat on was full of stains. After a rough game of cops and robbers, the orphan had mentioned playing a less energetic game.

"I'll get the stuff," he declared, stood up and departed the room.

Clint sat in silence until he sensed movement behind him. He turned and found another orphan who had been sitting idly on a lower bunk bed. The orphan looked Clint's age and was host to a shabby pair of overalls. One strap of them was apparently broken and he lacked a shirt. A dark looked occupied his brown eyes as he studied Clint with a hint of dislike.

"You go to school?" His voice had attitude and shimmered with distaste.

"Yes."

"And what would sommun like you be doing here?" He asked.

"My friends knew Wolfwood." Clint explained calmly.

"Ha!" The orphan picked up his pillow and threw it off his bed in no particular direction. "That butthole!" He growled. His eyebrows peaked downward.

Surprised, Clint gave him a questioning look.

"He promised us good living, he was gonna get money, you know." He glanced at Clint to see his intake. "Oh gawl, people like you make me sick, especially in this room. Don' you have stuff to study? Money ta count?"

Clint shook his head.

"What's your name, butthead?"

"Wh-what?" Clint stammered.

"Whud's- your- name- butthead? Dang, for goin' to school, you're not too bright."

"Clint."

"Well, _Clint,_ this's not a place for smugs like you."

Dakoma returned. "Wanna play poker?" He asked.

"Dakoma, would you tell me what we're gonna play poker with? We ain't got no cards, dumbnut!"

Dakoma glared. "I wasn't asking you, I was asking Clint!"

"I don't know how," Clint admitted.

"Well, I'll teacha!" Dakoma reassured and sat down on the carpet across from Clint. He revealed a deck of cards from his pocket and placed it between them.

A smirk spread across the other orphan's face as an idea hatched in his head. He sat up more profound with some sort of dignity. "Name's Jace by the way," he introduced. "I'm in. We're gamblin', right?"

….

Knives was stuck outside. His eyes scanned the children, but his mind wandered. He remained stone quiet. It was agitating to be there, but better than any other position open for him to fill. He pondered upon Vash again, angered that his brother trusted him so dearly to watch the little humans. He watched a little boy run around in circles until he grew too dizzy to stand. What was most appealing about the boy was his dark hair and blue eyes, which reminded Knives of Matthew. Matthew's most striking feature had always been his bright opalescent eyes- this boy's were apparent, but not near as beautiful as Matthew's.

…Odd that the woman used the word "volunteer" the other night… Chame's reaction had nothing to do with volunteering; the orphan was specifically asked for. If Knives had been after just anyone, he would have stolen the two who were murdered. Chame was the only capable one, and Janell had her own spark as well, though not as strong or quite the same as Chame's. Chame's was overpowering. He had earned his name before he was ever taken….and Janell never earned hers… she was _Janell_ until the day she died. Her death was her own choice: she should have told Knives where Chame was.

"Hey mister!"

Knives was so deep in thought, he didn't hear the child.

"Hey!"

The child reared up his leg to stomp on Knives' foot, but Knives sensed the child's actions and with instinct, moved his foot aside.

"Woah!" The child chirped.

_Simple minds_. How were they surviving? Children had such simple minds.

….

After opening the box, Millie saw papers and a number of miscellaneous objects. She picked up a black notebook labeled _journal_. Disappointment spread through her- all the pages were blank.

When she turned to speak to Lauvie, she realized the woman was gone.

Her hand placed the book on the dresser and continued her search. She found the proof of ownership to the orphanage, and a scrap of paper full of chicken scratch. As her eyes began to scan over it, she realized immediately that it was a description of Vash- his characteristics. On the back of the scratch paper, she found more writing in thick black ink.

_Solemnly sworn, Legato Bluesummers_

In an instant she felt an ominous shadow fall over her. The paper shook in her hand. Wolfwood, her Wolfwood, was working with that wretched, twisted man? Her hand fell limp. How could he have dealt with such a terrible man? No… maybe it was an oath to stay away after the murders. Who was she to jump to conclusions? Wolfwood may have been interacting with Legato, but that didn't mean he was necessarily working with him.

Millie was famous for listening to her heart, but this time she didn't want to…and for the first time Millie Thompson let her mind outsmart her intuition.

….

An odd silence in the kitchen left Vash and Meryl to deal with their own thoughts, which was something neither of them enjoyed. Meryl began drying a large pot with a navy blue towel when she finally brought up a decent subject.

"Clint's with the kids?" Meryl asked.

"Yeah," Vash answered gratefully. "It's good for him, you know, to be around people his own age instead of adults- even if he doesn't like it."

"What do you mean?" Meryl asked.

Vash neared her at the sink as he wetted a washcloth. "He apparently doesn't get along with them well, he's shy."

"Shy?"

"Uh-huh."

"Vash, he's not shy." Meryl almost laughed at the idea. She put the pot down and picked up a bowl. "He yelled at one of the highest authorities in Sunset and barked up a storm at Lauvie yesterday."

"Doesn't mean he can't be shy." Vash told her. He turned off the faucet, squeezed the cloth to let excess water drip off, and began wiping down the dirty counter. He watched the muck gather around the hot rag. "You can bark up a storm too, but you can get shy and timid." He pointed out.

"Everyone gets shy at times." She answered. She wanted to avoid any conversation about herself.

"Yeah…" Vash agreed. "I do."

It was that tone of voice Meryl hated; a semi-serious half-hinting sound that encaged her in confusion.

"I tried to get him to go home yesterday, but he can't in the current conditions." Vash said.

Meryl was slightly surprised at this information.

He returned slowly to the sink and cleared the washcloth of dirt and scum. Wringing it out, he watched clear water hit the bottom of the metallic sink and continue down the drain.

"It's selfish of me," he said. "But I like his company. It's nice to having insurance girls and a teenager around. It's hard to let them go." He gave a weak smile to the drain.

Meryl strained to grasp and understand him. She tried to read between the lines of his words. She caught his small glance as he departed to wash off the table. Her heart thumped as she put down the bowl.

"Are we going to start on dinner soon?" Vash asked.

"Yes. I'll see what type of food we have to work with."

Meryl put down the navy blue towel.

….

Yellowing sheets of paper occupied Millie's hands now. Some had been torn various time, but taped back together in hopes of preserving important information. The majority of them were proof of loans and other financial records. It was obvious Wolfwood's heart had been in the right place, he hadn't let his logic stop him from getting this orphanage running. She thumbed through them, and was about to put the stack down when she came across a peculiar set of characters. She didn't recognize the inscriptions right away, but after deeper inspection, she realized that the sheets were blood tests of some sort. Curious, she began to study them. She knew little to decipher what it all meant, but she did learn that the priest had had an A positive blood type.

….

"I win again!" Jace rejoiced, scooping up his goods.

With a frown pasted on his face, Clint declared poker was not the fun he had presumed it to be. Jace had won every single round and had claimed all Clint's money, his spearmint gum, his school tie, his socks, and even his watch.

"We're tired of playing." Dakoma whined. "And I don't have anything more to bet!"

"You still have your clothes," Jace pointed out.

"They're too small for you."

"Here, I'll make yuh a deal. Clint wins, I'll give you all's stuff back, but if he loses, I get your clothes and Clint's sunglasses." Jace suggested, doing a terrible job at concealing his greedy smile.

"What if I win?" Dakoma asked.

"You don't count."

Dakoma frowned.

"Awe, com'on don't you wan' you marbles back?"

Dakoma considered this for a moment and then sighed. "Clint, you better win! I don't have any other clothes."

Clint hesitated. He really wasn't fond of the game, and would just assume quit before he really became an embarrassment.

"Come on, Clint, let's go!" Jace ordered.

Reluctantly, he gave into peer pressure.

Why did he give in? It was a terrible idea. Jace won again without the slightest flaw.

"Ha!" Jace thumped his fists on the ground. "Fork 'em over!"

"This sucks," Dakoma frowned and began to unbutton his shirt and pants. "At least I still got my underwear…" In defeat, he handed over the clothing.

"Thank you," Jace told him with a smug expression. Then he turned to Clint. "Sunglasses," he held out his hand.

Clint hesitated, wondering how he had gotten himself into such a mess.

Jace wiggled his fingers impatiently.

Just as Clint's fingers skimmed his sunglasses, Meryl entered the bedroom. Clint froze.

"Dinner's on the table…!" Meryl blinked at the sight of four boys with a deck of cards in the middle. The older orphan had quite the stash, and the younger one was missing his outer layer of clothing.

Vash appeared behind the insurance girl, his chipper mood evaporated. "Gambling?" A sweat drop clung to him.

"Yep!" Jace answered proudly. "I've just won meself a nice pair of dark sunglasses."

Vash raised an eyebrow and looked to Clint. Clint stared longingly back.

Vash shook his head. "I can't get you out of this if he won fair and square. Here, take mine."

He flipped the sunglasses out of his pocket and handed them to the teenager. In return, Clint swapped the two, handing the dark dark black pair to Jace.

/They're not pitch black, but with the light's glare, you'll be fine for now/ Vash told him.

Clint saw the world from a new shade- yellow.

In a cocky fashion, Jace placed the black sunglasses on and grinned.

It was all Meryl could do to ignore the situation and remind them of dinner again.

….

Soup was a classic at an orphanage, and it came as no surprise to the orphans. But thanks to a different style of cooking they experience a new taste in the broth. Vash had forgotten how delicious Meryl's soup recipe was; it warmed clear down his throat and landed softly in his stomach. In the end, Meryl was most pleased with the fact that there would be some left over for the following day.

Towards the last of dinner- when everyone was done eating, but most were still sitting- Vash introduced a game that required serious imagination and action. As he talked about it Meryl had to suppress her smile. His enthusiasm on this game was severely rubbing off on the orphans, insomuch that several couldn't sit still. The game sounded similar to "cops and robbers", but this one had sheriffs, citizens, ransoms, bandits, and heroes. In just a few short minutes, the area from the kitchen to the living room was turned over into a western town- chairs were laying sideways, couches were bundled together to make a fort, and blankets were stretched out.

"Wow, this looks like fun, Vash," Millie said.

"Oh, we haven't even started. Who do you want to be?" Vash asked. "A hero, bandit, or citizen? The sheriff is already taken."

"I don't know…" Millie said thoughtfully. She turned to Meryl. "Meryl, what are you going to be?"

"I'm not going to be anything- I think I'll just watch."

"You can't just watch, Knives is the only one I'll let get away with that" Vash exclaimed. "Come on, it'll be fun. When was the last time you used some imagination?"

"When I imagined myself standing in that corner," she answered, and pointed to an empty corner in the living room.

"Here, you can and Millie can be citizens, they don't take much effort. You have to do _something_ though. I promise it will be fun." Vash insisted.

After some more coaxing from Millie, Meryl reluctantly gave in to the idea. But her lack of activity made her the first hostage to be taken by the bandits. This slowly brought her alive, and after seeing Vash make a somewhat fool of himself, she let her imagination fly a little.

About three quarters into the game orphans Lucy and T.J. had also been taken as hostages, one bandit had been arrested, and the sheriff had already begged and called in some _hero_ back up. The kitchen became the safe outskirts for the heroes, seeing that the bandits now had full control over the town. It was in the kitchen that the heroes began to come up with their tactics.

"Jason and Vash will rescue the hostages," Sarah suggested. "And the rest of us will get their's attention. Ready? On three we'll run in there. One- Two- Three!"

Vash and Jason let the others burst into the town, yelling and causing uproar.

"Let's go…" Jason advised, and then they crept passed the commotion. For the first part, the plan went pretty well, but as Vash and Jason neared the hostages, the leader of the bandits called attention to them.

Vash and Jason froze as the leader jumped in front of their path. "Stop right there," he warned.

Vash laughed and pulled Jason in front of him. "Don't you know who this is?" He asked. "This is Jason the Revolver and he's the best gunman alive."

"A draw," the bandit suggested.

"Agreed." Jason answered with piercing eyes. Stiff, he held out his hand. The bandit squeezed it in a handshake.

Everyone was staring at the two now. All commotion stopped, all hopes relied on the draw. Suddenly one citizen broke out of conformity and cheered Jason's name. Jason took no notice of it as he was placed back to back with his enemy. After ten paces, they whirled around and shot. Two darts flew across the room. For a moment neither moved. Then the bandit staggered, clamping his side.

The citizens shouted their appraisal.

Quickly, Vash went to the hostages and began releasing them. Finally he untied Meryl, silently.

"There you go, miss," he said. "A damsel in distress no more."

"Thanks," Meryl answered awkwardly.

Meryl looked away from his eyes, but she sensed them still on her. She bit her bottom lip, trying to ignore his gaze- it was lasting too long. Her stomach flipped uncomfortably.

"Kiss!" A watching citizen cried.

Meryl had grown up listening to many cowboy classics, and it was tradition for the hero to fall in love with the damsel…but that was always for the main characters. They weren't main characters.

"Kiss!" The orphan cried again.

She felt Vash's hand on her shoulder, and out of habit, looked to him. Without her approval, her stomach did a somersault.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" A chant was developing and it was containing more participants- mostly young girls. Others were disgusted by the idea, but yet refused to look away.

This idea appeared to have taken a hold on Knives, he folded his arms and sat up straighter mumbling "Now this is getting somewhere," under his breath.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

Meryl wasn't turning away. She found herself frozen. Then to her horror, Vash gave into peer pressure- he closed his eyes. Slowly he crept in closer. Meryl's heart thumped, she even hesitated. Then, when Vash was just five inches away, a burning sensation erupted on his cheek.

He stumbled back, dumbfounded.

Meryl glared him, too angry to find words.

"I wasn't really going to!" He cried, and threw his hands up. "I was just pretending! I really was!"

My, was he red. Surely her hand couldn't have inflicted such severe damage- she had never seen a man so red.

Meryl took a dignified step toward him. "What the heck did you think you were doing?"

Vash stepped back, keeping a safe distance from her. "It was just for show, I swear!"

Fire burned in the small insurance girl's eyes, and Vash realized his bad choice of words.

"I mean, we were acting." He insisted.

She came closer.

Vash took another step back, but his foot caught on a bundled up blanket and he tripped, falling to the floor.

Oh, he had really messed up now. She was bearing down at him with pure hatred.

"I'm sorry!" Vash cried. He cowered at her feet.

Meryl forced him up and stared him squarely in his red red burning face. Anger surged through her veins. How dare he? How dare _he_!

"You big dumb" -she searched for an appropriate word while trying to retain some sort of dignity among the children- "Dumb broomhead blond! Don't ever do that to me again! Does no one here know what this means?" She violently held up her left hand where her engagement ring sparkled. Did no one have respect for it!

Vash's apologetic eyes stared bravely into Meryl's violent ones.

If she hadn't been standing in front of a bunch of orphans, she would quite like to do more damage, but she left Vash red and welted.

….

As Meryl, Clint, Sandra, and Lauvie began putting children to bed, Vash spread out on the living room couch and stared hopelessly at the ceiling. He had never been more humiliated in his life. What was he thinking? In reality, he couldn't remember exactly what _had_ been going on in his stupid little head.

"Now I've pushed her away even more," Vash grumbled.

"Maybe not." Millie answered.

"I'm terrible at this!" Vash cried.

Millie frowned at him

"It's not you, Vash."

"Not me?" He repeated in disbelief.

"It could be Meryl. She _did_ hesitate. Maybe she blew up because she likes you, but shouldn't."

To Vash, it didn't sound likely. Even if that was the case, it was still a terrible idea, where had it come from? When did his little mind think it a good idea?

"Meryl doesn't love me." He answered.

"She might still like you."

Vash half grunted.

"It was the best part of the show," Knives commented.

Meryl ignored Vash when she and Clint returned. They stood idly for a few moments until Clint suggested it was time to leave.

"Thank you so much for all of your help," Lauvie told them. "Millie, you can keep that box, it's all Wolfwood left behind and you deserve something for getting that impossible man to fall in love."

Sandra, who had been hugging the box, carefully handed it Millie.

"Thank you." Millie took it. "But you'll want this." She insisted and fished the orphanage deed and financial information from the box.

"Yes, of course." Lauvie took them.

With a weary pace, they made it to the front door. The air was chiller now than it had been this morning; Meryl pulled her arms in closer to her body.

Millie was about to say goodbye, when Lauvie spoke again.

"No, no one should have to suffer when they're out of the web. Matthew visits us a lot, he has his beliefs." She gave them a sad smile, closing the door until it was open only a small crack. "Thank you again…and…He's in May City."

_Click_.

Vash whirled around. "May City?"

The door was shut. He stepped forward, considering whether or not to knock on it, but thought against it and turned away.

"But that's so far from here…" Meryl pointed out, her anger finally beginning to lift.

"Then we better get out of here," Clint said.

"Tonight," Knives agreed. "We need to leave now."

"How?" Clint asked.

"We'll find a car, and some fuel."

Meryl felt so jumbled up and exhausted, she didn't even want to think of leaving.

"Don't worry, you can all sleep on the way." Knives suggested. "You all look like you've been hit by a Sandsteamer."

Once back in the city, they searched for the nearest transportation dealership. No cars were in sight, but after thoroughly searching a dealership called _Hander_, Knives came across a midnight blue car in the garage. Several problems came along with it: it didn't have keys, lacked a tire, and was home to a large dent in the roof (as if a small skinny light pole had fallen on top of it).

"Are we going to fix it up?" Clint asked.

"It's the only way to get to May, so everyone needs to hurry and get it running." Knives ordered. He studied it, the tires, rims, engine, and steering wheel. "I can hot wire it. Clint, you and the girls look for a tire, Vash, you can start looking for a way to fix that dent, although we might just have to deal with it if it takes too long."

Meryl wondered if Knives was enjoying the opportunity to boss them around. Apparently he was the only one who really knew enough about vehicles to help get it going. She kept her mouth shut due to her slight bitter mood and the idea that it would get done faster if they all listened to him anyway.

Finally they were leaving. Clint, Millie, and Meryl were fit in the back, while Vash occupied the passenger seat and Knives took the steering wheel. The dent was unfixable, but it wasn't a real problem other than the passenger in the back left corner had to slouch. Vash flipped open the glove box.

"I found the keys," he noted. He turned to Knives. "You didn't check the glove box?"

"It would have taken too long."

Vash avoided the argument when he spotted a shiny pair of sunglasses. Holding them up for a better view, he blew the dust off. "Clint, forget your old sunglasses, because I found you an even better pair. Take a look."

Vash handed them to him. They were silver, and the front reflected more like a mirror than glass. They would be perfect to conceal his spacious eyes. He swapped them and Vash's, handing the yellow ones to the outlaw.

Millie had already fallen asleep, the old shoe box still in her hand, and looked rather peaceful in her dreams.

When they left December City, the talking had departed too. Most embraced the weary silence. Meryl was so tired she wondered how Knives even had the will power to drive. Then, just as she was questioning whether she trusted his alertness, she drifted off to sleep.

….

Meryl woke up groggily as the vehicle pushed them along through the desert. The only light was that of the stars, moons, and car headlights. She could smell the dust in the desert, and the air was slightly warmer. To her surprise, she found the outlaw driving and his brother fast asleep next to him.

"I thought you didn't know how to drive." Meryl said. She could remember an incident of Vash crashing and demolishing the only car she had ever owned on their previous adventures.

"I did just a little, but Knives taught me thoroughly," he answered.

"And when did he learn?"

"Not too long ago. Knives can learn by simply experimenting and studying, but I learn a lot faster when someone directs me…we're different that way…" Vash sighed.

"Do you think it's because he doesn't trust many people?" Meryl inquired.

"And he questions authority."

Meryl sat up straighter and stared out at the little desert she could see. "I wonder where it started in him…"

To her surprise, Vash was quick to answer.

"He was abused and doubtful, it's amazing the impact. He became exactly the stigma."

Meryl looked over at Knives. "You make him sound innocent with those words."

"It's the cycle of hate, Meryl, that's the game it plays."

Meryl grew silent at the sound of her name. She glanced around the car, capturing the still and relaxed expressions of Millie and Clint. "Everyone's asleep," she acknowledged.

Once again Vash felt himself become self conscious. He was unsure of what course in conversation to take. Suddenly the terrible memory of what happened earlier that day pounced on him.

"I'm…I'm sorry about the incident today…"

Meryl didn't say anything, but she sensed his bashful approach.

Vash was glad it was night, because he felt his face might be touching a ruddy color again. "I shouldn't have jumped it on you, it was wrong of me. It was for show, but you don't deserve that… you know, I wasn't really going to…" He stopped, feeling very uncomfortable.

A part of Meryl was still very much enraged, but its size had decreased. Vash's sheepishness was somehow winning her over.

"Well," she said finally. "If the big idea of _pretending_ comes into play again, please ask me, or at least tell me ahead of time."

"I _was_ pretending. You're engaged."

Meryl found herself searching for hurt in his voice.

"I'm sorry." He apologized.

"It's said and done, don't keep worrying about it. You're like Charles that way, can't let faults go. The only person you keep grudges with is yourself."

Vash didn't want to be anything like Charles, Meryl already had a Charles.

"What have you been reading? I've seen you with that little black book a lot."

"…It's just one of my journals from a few years ago." Ever since she had found it the night of her date, she had been somewhat addicted to the drug. She was lucky to still have it, but because of its small size, it was easy to pocket. The journal haunted her, but guiltily she read, remembering the outlaw sitting in front of her. She was remembering why she loved him, remembering what hurt, how pain felt, how afraid she was… her heart grew heavy with every page- pages that made her angry, and pages that rebuilt her bond with Vash the Stampede. It so well reconstructed her that sometimes she worried.

"You keep a journal?" Vash asked.

"Kept," she corrected. "Don't you?"

She saw his sad smile from the light of the vehicle. "I can't keep a journal, Meryl, but you should continue keeping one."

'It's too dangerous,' Meryl concluded within herself. 'Everything about him could be turned in to the police and bounty hunters in a matter of hours.' She had never thought that writing in a little notebook about one's life could be considered a privilege.

"It has you in it," she admitted, and awaited his reaction. When he didn't answer, she added, "And Millie, and Wolfwood."

The information seemed to please him.

Several peaceful moments passed.

"Vash, can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything, Meryl."

"And will you be honest?"

Vash hesitated, but gave a slow nod.

"_Who_ is he? _Who is Clint_?"

"Clint's…. Clint."

Meryl lowered her eyebrows. "You know that's not what I mean," she said in annoyance. "There's something different about him, and everyone senses it."

"Senses?" Vash asked. He had not expected that choice of description.

"That man in Sunset, that lady from the orphanage, even I did back on the Sandsteamer," Meryl explained. "His dad was killed by Chame, he can't go home, he's on medication, and is obsessed with sunglasses." She glanced at the teenager. The fifth moon was reflected perfectly on his silver sunglasses. "I want to know who he really is, he's tied in this somehow, and I think you know." She didn't want to sound upset, so she allowed Vash some quiet time.

The silence was heavy. Meryl felt chills flee across her arms.

"Is he dying?" She asked quietly.

"No, he's not dying."

This relieved her.

"Is he after revenge?"

Vash shook his head. "Meryl, to be honest, I can't tell you, it's too dangerous. It's gambling life."

Meryl fell silent. She was tired of Vash being alone and closed from the world. He had no one to fall back on without worrying about their life. He carried so much.

When Vash grew tired, Meryl volunteered to switch places with him. She hadn't driven a car in a long time, but was perfectly calm with the idea. She was surprised how fast the suns rose; the light revealed the soon-to-be bumpy ground. Wondering if she could avoid the mounds, she glanced off to her left and right. They were bumpy too, and she didn't have time to go clear around them.

Knives jerked awake and sat straight up. His eyes were livid.

"Go faster." He demanded.

Steadily, Meryl increased her speed.

"Faster." He raised his voice.

Once again Meryl pressed the pedal a little more.

"_Meryl_, go faster!"

She couldn't ever remember hearing the twisted man say her name in such a way. He rarely said it all, but this time it was directed specifically to her.

"What's going on?" Meryl heard Clint yawn.

Knives kept his eyes on Meryl.

"Go faster."

Meryl began to feel nervous at his tone- she was already driving at speeds she hadn't before.

"What's wrong?" Vash was now awake.

"Is it the plants?" Clint asked.

"Yes, we need to hurry." Knives answered.

Vash paused for a moment. "I can't sense them."

"Your senses are dull," Knives criticized. "We need to get there as soon as possible."

"Buckle up!" Millie reminded.

"I can't go much faster through all these mounds." Meryl pointed out.

"Then move aside." Knives grabbed the steering wheel. "You're pushing my patience."

Before Meryl knew it, Knives' foot was sharing the pedal as well. Her heart was beating faster; this couldn't be a safe attempt.

"On three," Knives demanded. "One- two- three."

Meryl scrambled for the passenger seat as Knives calmly sat in the driver's. Several seconds later the vehicle gave a jolt of power. Meryl found her hand gripping the seat with her life. She wondered just how far from here May City was.

Author's note: The next chapter is a BIG one. We get to see another side of Knives and it has a lot of action. As always thanks for reading!


	16. Snare

Snare

After riding in a car at high speeds for so long, Vash began to feel sick. He wondered how well the car was taking this, but trusted Knives knowledge and surety.

May City was in their sight now. From what they could see, it looked as it did everyday. By now Clint's and Vash's senses were pounding, like a constant throb in their head, never had these poundings been so strong and distinct. Each pound brought Vash apprehension. His eyes remained on the city.

Inside the city they could see no one, but they heard voices when they skidded to a stop. Knives turned to Vash.

"Where are we going?" He asked calmly, but before the question was fully out of his mouth another voice from outside reached their ears.

"Get out of the car!" It was rough and threatening.

Everyone but Knives turned to see the graying man. He was standing behind the car and was carrying a gun. This man was the start of a potential problem.

"Get down," Knives whispered and stomped his foot on the pedal.

"What are you doing!" Vash asked. He hunched down only after ensuring the others were was well.

Several gunshots pierced the air, one hitting a window, but nothing else.

"I'm keeping this car so we can get around faster and easier!" Knives turned and spat at him.

"Stop! Stop!" Vash pointed forward.

Knives whirled to the front and found a crowd developing. A large number of them carried guns.

One bullet hit their tire.

"Move!" Knives honked.

"We want the car!" One person cried.

"We're in the devil's trap!" Another voiced.

"Move!" Knives ordered.

"Get out!" A large man demanded, pointing his gun at them.

Five seconds later the crowd went silent. Everyone in the car watched the crowd's stone expression. Vash's stomach turned. Then as if it was rehearsed, all at once those who had guns suddenly dropped them in unison. All at once the weapons hit the dirt with a muffled thump.

Meryl peeked over the dashboard, confused by the sight.

"Knives!" Vash growled. "Stop it!"

Each person began to march away.

"Knives!" Vash reach forward and clenched his brother's shoulder. "Stop it! Please!"

Clint didn't like the way the people were moving, but he didn't understand why Vash was so horrified.

"Let's just go!" Vash cried, his nails digging into Knives' skin.

In a silent aggravated fit, Knives opened his door, got out, and slammed it shut.

"We'll come back for our luggage, let's just find a safe place to stash it. Hurry." Vash raced to get everyone out of the car.

He could see the blank monotonous people out of the corner of his eye.

"Knives!" He cursed his brother again.

The brain-teasing stopped, and the people blinked, their stone faces being replaced with confused expression. Once aware of their surrounding, they raced for the vehicle. Whether or not the tire was deflating, they didn't care. They pushed and shoved, some even bit like animals, but in the end the few with the guns had the overall say.

Clint began to steer the luggage out of sight, Millie and Meryl helped him. They found an ideal spot just behind a dumpster.

"What were you doing?" Vash demanded, struggling to keep his voice steady.

"Keeping the car." Knives answered.

"But you didn't hav-"

A crying shriek pierced the air. Everyone froze as a woman stumbled to Knives, crying in sobs.

"You finally came!" She sobbed uncontrollably. She was very young, and generally very beautiful, but at the moment her face was twisted into turmoil. "You're Him right? Knives? He said you would come to help. Knives, a man with blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and a black trench-" She sobbed again, and was the only one who dared move and breathe. Vash, Millie, and Meryl watched Knives with an empty stomach, waiting his reaction. "My little boy is _dying_! Please! Help! The wall fell and…"

Knives turned his back to her. "You are confused."

"Please!" She fell at his feet hysterically.

"The man who will help you is over there, in a red coat. Who told you this? Was it Chame?"

She didn't stick around for the answer, but flung herself to Vash, who looked back with worried eyes. "Please, get my son out!"

Millie came to Vash's side. "Where is he?" She asked.

As everyone focused on the young mother, Meryl snuck a look at Knives, but he was already a great distance away- walking away. She glanced back at the woman, Vash, and Clint, and then back to Knives. She inhaled a deep breath, and followed after him. She departed unnoticed from the crowd, ignoring her never ending fear of the murderer, Knives.

"He's still alive!" The woman cried. "He's in an air pocket between the rubble."

"Take us to him," Millie ordered.

Vash glanced around. "Where's Meryl and Knives?" He asked tensely. His heart was beating faster. What was going on? "Nevermind, I'll find them. Can you help her?" Vash asked Millie, who now was trying to calm the mother down a little. Millie gave Vash a worried nod. At top speed, Vash stripped himself of his silver gun and pen-like communication device. He handed both to Clint. "Clint, stay with Millie the whole time." He ordered, fear developing in his gut.

"Yes."

Vash turned to Millie.

"We'll use the buddy system, don't worry." Millie answered.

It was impossible not to, Vash felt like the ground was crumbling under his feet. He broke away from them at a run.

"Telling him not to worry is like asking the suns not to shine," Clint told Millie.

"What way do we need to go?" Millie asked.

The woman somewhat regained herself and began leading the way.

….

Gingerly, Meryl followed Knives, surprised she hadn't been spotted yet. She was a pretty good distance behind him, but still out in the open. She remembered Knives had never really had to worry about being followed, and prayed that that was the reason for her going unnoticed. Still, she debated whether or not to let her presence be known, and wondered if it already was.

At the intersection, a teenager spotted them. "There he is! The Hero!" The teenager cried, pointing at Knives. "They're here!"

Knives continued walking, ignoring the oncoming crowd. Chame was mocking him, and Knives knew it. He set this up that Knives should be looked upon as some sort of god.

"It's really him!" The teenager cried.

"Blond, black, and blue, and with that business woman!" Another cried.

Meryl froze.

"Help us! You have to help us!" A small girl shouted.

Several people were looking passed Knives at Meryl now.

Knives stopped.

Meryl held her breath as shouts and cries filled the atmosphere, each crying to for someone like Vash, their distress went out in vain. Instead it went to this dirty twisted man.

Slowly, Knives began to turn towards Meryl and as he did so, another peculiar event took place. As his back faced each person, they fell limp to the ground, passed out or dead, Meryl didn't know. One moment each were shouting out, and the next they fell like dominos, until the last one crumbled as he stared at her.

She wanted to cower back, but remained still. She was afraid, but didn't dare move an inch. Bodies were condensed on top and around one another behind this man.

Suddenly, a smirk broke out across Knives' face, and he let out a small laugh. "Your probability of death is extremely high; you followed me."

Meryl reached for her gun. She knew if Knives wanted her dead, he would easily win, but still she would not go down without a fight. She aimed her gun at him, struggling to keep her breath steady.

"Not by me." Knives said.

Meryl studied him.

"Apparently we're the heroes of May," Knives showed his teeth in this smirk and motioned to the bodies on the ground. "Chame thinks we're partners."

"And why would he think that?" Meryl asked, slowly.

"Last time he saw me, I pushed you down so you wouldn't get shot. Remember? At the camp by Sunset City? He's never seen me do that. He'll use you to get to me…and you followed me, without Vash, without anyone." He broke out in his cold laugh, but Meryl didn't find it funny, she found it just as funny as these citizens littered around Knives' feet. But she wouldn't push him, she didn't dare.

"It's all to anger me," he smiled. "Killing my kind with my ideas, claiming Vash his target, telling these people we'll save them."

"This is _your_ idea?" Meryl asked, struggling to conceal all distaste she had.

"I'm going to end this," he said. "I'm going to find Chame. So I suggest you find Vash, he's looking for you."

….

Running as fast as possible, Millie, and Clint followed the desperate mother. This part of the city looked very old, many buildings were already crumbling, and others were barely standing. Clint spotted the plants to the north, they were flashing and sizzling.

"He's by the plants?" Clint asked.

"We live near by," She explained. "When the plants went out of control, they created large power surges through every electrical line. These old buildings can't sustain such power and energy."

The woman came to a stop at a shattered home. Millie and Clint could hear cries somewhere in the rubble; it was a miracle he was still alive.

Clint could sense the strong saturation of illness in the plants, and it made him dizzy. Chame had evidently dosed up the plants by dallons. Clint sneezed.

Following the howls and cries for help, Millie carefully clamored over debris. Particles of what was once a home surrounded her feet. Clint followed after her. With care he watched his footing. They continued through the mine field until the crying was excessively loud. Then they began digging and working together to lift heavier materials until Millie spotted the young black-haired boy covered in dust. He was victim to several scratches, but the most prominent injury was the large goose egg formed on his forehead.

Clint sneezed again. His eyes watered and burned and the strong sense of illness occupied his mind like a bad taste in one's mouth.

Millie held the boy in her arms as Clint helped her reach save ground again.

"Jackie!" The mother cried and grasped the child from Millie's arms. "Everything will be okay, you're okay right? Sh…" She rocked back and forth, burying her nose in the child's black hair. "Oh, thank you! You've saved my son!"

"You have to find a way to get out of here," Millie advised. "Walk if you have to."

Clint sneezed yet again. He glanced back at the large plants. With so much virus injected into them, how much time would it take for them to die?

….

Vash was running as fast as his legs could carry him. He kept his mind on Knives' mind, praying everything would be an understatement. He dashed through an empty street and then turned down another. Only one man was on this street, he looked familiar, but Vash couldn't put a name to him. He ignored the idea and took a right at the next intersection. A large crowd occupied the next street. From the expressions and potentially dangerous items in their hands, Vash could conclude they were seeking a battle. None had guns, but a few of them carried empty glass bottles, shovels, and other tools.

"You're not supposed to be here Vash the Stampede."

The crowd began to encircle him. Fighting for time, he turned around again to escape the oncoming situation, but the men were around him now. He ran to break through the circle, but as he reached the crowd, the ground disappeared from under his feet and he was thrust to the ground.

"You got away with the last murder, you've gotten away with July, Augusta, December, Delta, and Sunset, but not this time!" A man yelled.

Vash had nothing to do with this! What were they doing? They were wasting his time!

"I'm sorry," he spoke and slowly stepped up from the ground. "I'm just trying to keep everyone alive. I don't want any harm, I'm sorry you lost your loved ones, but I can't bear to let anymore be lost either. People are in trouble- there is more important business here."

"Keh!" A large blacksmith bore down. His eyes were fierce. "Don't tell us what is important. No more will die from your hand, and don't play with sympathy, it contradicts itself when used by you."

"We're not letting you go even if it kills us," another bearded man spoke. "We won't let anymore people suffer."

"You don't understand," Vash said. "Everyone has to get out of town. The plants are dying!"

"And by who?" The blacksmith smirked. "No, we're stopping this. The Humanoid Typhoon is not making it out of this city. No, not this time."

"Please! I'm trying to help you!" Vash insisted.

The blacksmith pointed his index finger at the outlaw. "All the cities that have been destroyed have been destroyed by plant energy! Who can do something like that, but you? You're behind it!"

Vash shook his head. They had to understand! Knives was gone with Meryl! Chame was here! This had nothing to do with him!

"Please, you're wasting time." Vash said it with more force this time. "I don't have time to argue with you."

"Yes," another man agreed. He was skinny, younger than the rest, and had dark chocolate eyes. "Let's stop wasting time."

The circle grew tighter. Hatred sparked in their eyes.

"Remember, you brought this on yourself. You are the one reason my family died. You are nothing Vash the Stampede, and finally the outside will reflect it."

Vash had played a part in it. He had played a part in everything. How could he ask to be freed to save family, when he himself played a part in taking so many? He hadn't meant to ever be a part of such crimes.

Before he knew it, he was back on the ground, stomach throbbing. These people were attacking him. But he couldn't fight back, never had he fought back. Didn't he deserve all of this abuse? Wasn't it brought upon himself? Something shattered on his head, glittering pieces of glass flew passed his eyes, and then we wasn't sure when what was hitting what. All the hurt mingled and slurred together until it felt that somehow time had stopped and the men kept going, their yelling was indistinct and incoherent. Vash's whole body seemed to pulse to his speeding heart beat, he felt something wet sliding down his forehead and his vision blurred. They were going to kill him.

Then he spotted something white and red behind the legs and shoes of these men. He struggled to focus on it with his rolling eyes. It stopped and stared at him with red eyes. The white tail flipped on the dirt, its mouth opened and closed in one syllable that Vash couldn't hear. His eyes focused. _Rade_. Chame's cat was here. Time was wasting. He didn't have time. Meryl was in trouble. _He_ was wasting time.

Vash rolled over. A clink sounded. He always had a gun with him, it could never leave him.

"Let me go!" Vash yelled in frustration. He fired. He couldn't stop firing. Men were on the ground with him now, clasping their bleeding legs and knees. Blood seeped between their fingers and soaked their clothes. Most were completely taken aback with the bullets and confused with the outlaw's sudden burst of energy. Those who had not been injured dashed away hysterically. Blood saturated the dust.

He had to get up. He had to find Knives. He staggered down another street, hardly able to pinpoint his brother now, but he had to hurry. Rade followed behind him, mewing loudly. Vash collapsed after another yard- everything hurt- he needed to catch his breath, just for a moment.

….

Clint burst the door open of the plant control center. He had insisted on seeing the plants no matter what Millie said, and Millie was forced to follow the teenager. The building was empty, but various electrical noises filled the air.

"Clint, I still don't think this is a good idea," Millie cautioned. She felt uncomfortable in these headquarters.

Clint ignored her comment and went to another door. He pushed it open and spotted one of the gorgeous bulbs. Only part of it was visible from inside the building, the rest was home to the outside.

Millie gazed at it. She had never seen the actual being behind the glossy surface. In school she remembered learning about the human-like figure, but seeing it was a completely different story. Millie knew plants were alive, but seeing a feminine figure pressed against the glass brought it into a new scale. The plant was ill. She was sick and her face was twisted in torment. Something large jutted out of her back and extended into the mist of the orb so that Millie was unable to decipher the shape.

"The plants are drenched with that virus," Clint said. "We can really help everyone if we find out how much time we have- or they have before they die."

"You know how to tell?" Millie asked.

"It would help Vash."

The light within the plant flickered, and they could hear a sizzling sound. Clint sensed the fear of the plant. His mind seemed to join with her and it frightened him. He hadn't taken any of his medication, and as a result his senses towards her were overwhelmingly sharp. Slowly he walked to her, head spinning. Then before Millie could murmur her caution again, Clint had his forehead and hands against the glossy surface. Millie had seen Vash do something like this before, but it caught her off guard to see Clint making such actions. Clint tried to calm his body, but it began to twitch against all his will. Before Millie knew it, the teenager was shaking.

"Clint?" She reached for him. The moment her fingers touched his skin, he lost his balance and fell back. Millie was lucky to catch him in her arms. He was unconscious, but still shaking. The light from the plant continued to flicker and the being pressed her body closer against the thick layer of glass.

"Clint." Millie said again, becoming increasingly fearful.

Suddenly he gasped and coughed violently. Millie felt his stomach and chest move up and down in rigid motions. "We have until midnight. And that's pushing it."

"Clint…" Millie said sadly. She summoned her strength and picked him up with determination.

He opened his eyes. "I can walk, just give me a second." The world felt like it was spinning. Clint shook his head. "Just get me out of this death chamber first." He coughed so hard it made his stomach lurch.

It wasn't fair, he thought as Millie slowly carried him away from the plant. It wasn't fair that his whole existence contradicted itself. He wasn't human, he wasn't a plant, and neither could live with the other. He was killing himself, a victim in his own body and of no purpose because he couldn't be either. Being both made him an easy target.

Millie carried him out of the abandoned building. Once a half a block away, he forced himself to his feet, and staggered. Millie offered her arm for support, but he denied it.

"I'm fine," he declared, but only several seconds later he collapsed on the ground.

"I don't mind carrying you, I like to help," Millie told him.

Apart from his condition, Clint let his fist hit the ground in frustration. "I'm tired of not having a place!"

Millie watched him in empathy. "You can stay with Vash, Meryl, Knives, and me. You have a place here. There's always room for you, you're family."

Although the words were kind, they meant nothing to him at the moment.

"I don't mean it like that-" His stomach lurched again and the dam that held all water in, broke and rushed through the banks of the river- up and out his throat. Vomit hit the ground.

….

Meryl stared at Knives, unaware that she didn't dare move an inch.

"Go back the way we came," Knives said. "You'll find Vash. I'm stopping Chame." A flicker fluttered in Knives' eye.

Meryl turned back around. Suddenly, she realized how far it was from safety; they had walked a long way. She took a deep breath to calm herself and started at a quick jog.

Knives watched her.

She had made it to the next intersection- a half a block away- when something- some force deadly fast- nearly knocked her down. She reached for her gun. She could feel the sleek surface of it on the tips of her fingers, but before they could grasp it, her arms were forced against her body so tight, it hurt. For a moment she was sure she was falling to the dust; she had lost all balance. She teetered, but a tighter grasp around her regained her balance. Her body weight rested on another man's, her back leaning against his front. She heard a gunshot, and was suddenly whirled around until she was facing Knives and the passed out bodies again. Knives gun was pointed at her, at the man who held her so tightly with his strength. The arms that so severely cut off her circulation readjusted so that a rigid hand was smashing her lips against her teeth. It smelled like dust, and Meryl felt his facial hair tangle with her lavender strands. He was breathing hard. She could feel his chest rise and fall against her back. Pulling her head back against his chest, his other arm darted away and in a blink of an eye, she felt a large jab under her chin. The object pressed against her flesh, making her teeth clench and tongue swell.

"Speak of the devil," Knives said. He let his gun-occupied arm fall to his side.

"The only devil to be spoken of is you," Chame replied, his chest finally slowing.

Knives chuckled as if it was all some kind of prank instead of Meryl's fragile life on a thread.

_Vash would come_, Meryl thought desperately. _He always comes_. But Vash wasn't there. Meryl was alone with two killers and a gun pointed to her head. The safety of Vash's words…his arms… felt far far away now.

….

"Mia-yaw."

Vash lifted his eyes. He was alone with mixed feelings and an albino cat still staring at him. His thrash at the sight of the cat had scared the remaining crowd away. With a lurch, his stomach felt worse now. He had shot all those people and just left them…

He _had _to get up.

"Meow."

Rade's red eyes taunted Vash. Long and content, his tail flipped in the dirt like a withering worm. For a long time Vash stared at the red spheres, feeling sick. With a jolt, the gunman came to his feet. Knives was still a good distance away.

Rade stood up and continued to stare.

Vash shooed the cat with his threatening boots. Blood dripped from them. Rade returned the favor with an intimidating hiss, and attempted to claw the boot. Vash ignored it and continued to walk toward Knives.

….

"Who's this?" Chame asked, baring his yellow teeth.

Meryl could hardly hear his voice over the drumming of her heart. Her life was in these bloodshed hands who cared nothing for her, who, if it wasn't for Vash, may have killed her and everyone years ago. Quivering, she realized how fragile she was. Belittling, she felt the line between human, plant, and half-demons. Life was delicate with them. Human life was brittle, and unlike these two, death could never be cheated for her. If shot, she would be another shadow of Vash's long lonely life, passing away with nightfall. Her life would be but a sentence in his biography… would it be a strong sentence?

_I don't want to lose you again!_ The words from the Sandsteamer… that felt so long ago. He was so desperate for her survival, and he still was. She had watched him cry too many times, there had to be some way of to stop his grief. There had to be some way out of this. She wasn't going to be part of his grief if she could help it.

"Who is she?" Chame asked again.

Knives expression was stone still. "Human. She's trash," Knives answered. "Kill her." There wasn't a stutter, a change of tone, or a quiver in his voice. But a cold voice, full of no emotion, still, cold, silent, like a grave stone.

"Heh," Chame smiled and then violently threw the shattered insurance girl to the ground behind him.

Meryl rolled over; never believing dirt could taste so delicious in her upset mouth.

Knives didn't even glance at her, but kept his eyes pierced on Chame's grey ones.

Confused, but grateful, Meryl ran shakily for Vash. She didn't know where he was, but was overwhelmed when she saw his symbolic red coat as she turned down another street. She ran harder, as if she couldn't get to him fast enough. All emotion in her slurred together and crumbled until she had broken into tears.

"Meryl!" Vash said. "Are you okay, what's wrong? Is it Chame? Are you hurt?" His hands grasped her upper arms. She looked into his face, he looked worried and afraid, and so more tears fell down her face.

"I don't know," she cried. "I don't know what happened. I don't know what's wrong." She brought her hands over her face where her thick voice echoed. "I don't know why I'm crying. I was afraid and you weren't there-I-I-"

Vash put his arms around her, holding her tight for comfort. "Sh…" He hushed. "It's okay. I was coming, I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry."

It sounded childish for Meryl to say such things- selfish even- to expect so much from Vash. Why did she put so much responsibility on such a heavy burdened man?

"I'm here now."

But Meryl couldn't find her voice.

"I'm sorry I keep you waiting- I've always kept you waiting."

"What are you talking about" Meryl breathed.

But he wouldn't answer as blood trailed down his boots and stained his sun-ripe hair.

…

The contrast between Chame and Knives was night and day. Chame glared at Knives with extreme distaste and annoyance, as if he was appalled to be in his presence. Knives, on the other hand, and taken a more relaxed and confident stance. His eyes had a sly gleam that had been missing for years. He was ready to end the legacy of the orphan who had mocked him for so long. Chame stiffened after detecting Knives' façade in confidence. Had the plant forgotten he held the power to bring death down upon him?

"This is it, Chame." Knives said calmly. "You wanted this Knives, and here I am." He laughed again, but Chame didn't say a word. "I killed them. Wolfwood through Legato, Chapel and Janell through my own mind, and I'll kill you through my own combinations."

Chame stood rock solid, his face had softened somewhat, as if the last sentence had touched a more human-like attribute buried away in him. "Make you're move."

….

After Meryl had insisted Vash needed to sit down for the fourth time, he considered that it did sound very tempting, and with a little more bickering, found himself and Meryl in an alleyway. It was dirty, but ideal for isolation from panicked citizens.

Meryl had quite regained herself now, and was unsure how she had let herself become so emotional during such an important moment. Too much needed to be done to break down. Vash was in poor condition and she had no idea where Millie and Clint were. And another thought continuously weaved through her consciousness, Knives was exactly who she had always been afraid he would be. Ever since she had ran back into Vash, she had had her doubts about him. He was never to be trusted, but why did Vash have to be so loving to everyone? If Knives really wished Meryl dead, than he was a worse of a detriment having been let into their lives.

A very profound prick entered Vash's consciousness. It was powerful and determined to fight. The emotion leaking from it twisted his stomach. Knives was fighting Chame… his spirit was sickening. Then all at once another particle fractured his thoughts, insomuch that he stood up.

"Clint's near by…." But he wasn't doing well.

Meryl peered out of the alley and down the street. No one was there, at least not yet. She sighed and retreated back into the alley and asked Vash to sit back down.

"Vash! Clint's sick, where are you?" Vash heard the voice in his ear through his silver ring attached to his lobe.

"Churchill Drive- across the street from the Saloon- in the alleyway. Meryl's here. Clint needs to take his medication."

Several minutes later Vash and Meryl both heard Millie's voice.

"Vash! Vash!"

Meryl poked her head out again. "Oh, Millie!" She looked tired, but not as tired as Clint. She had several scratches, and was sweating. Clint on the other hand looked ill and very pale. When they reached the alley, Clint covered his mouth either for his condition or the sight of Vash's.

"Millie, do you happen to have a thread and needle?" Meryl asked. "Anything? Vash was attacked and has a real deep cut in his leg."

"No," Millie answered. "But Clint is sick."

"I'm fine." Clint snapped, but his voice and _sick_ written all over it.

"What's wrong?" Meryl asked. She placed her hand on his forehead, it was burning.

"He keeps throwing up, coughing, sneezing, and has a fever."

"Meryl, help Millie take Clint back to our luggage," Vash said. "He needs his medication- a huge dos. Give him seven."

"What about you, Vash?"

"I can't, I need to rest. I'll wait here or meet you two over there later." Vash answered.

"We'll look for a first aide on the way." Millie answered.

"No. I'm not going anywhere without Vash." Clint growled stubbornly. "He could _die!_"

"So could you, than all your traveling would be in vain." Vash said.

"It would be in vain if I just watch you die."

"You're too young to worry about me. If I go I will have a greater risk of death."

Clint shook his head. "I'm not leaving you. Even if I did, and we went back to our luggage, I don't have anymore medication."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Vash demanded, but before he finished, Clint started coughing violently again. Meryl watched him hack with concern. He coughed for nearly a minute before gaining control of himself. When he had finished, Vash grabbed Clint's wrists and forced his shaking hands away from his face. Clint tried feebly to resisted, but he was in no state to fight. Vash looked down and Clint's red palms. Blood. His mouth was red too. Vash and Clint locked eyes. Vash saw himself reflected in the silver sunglasses, worried.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Vash asked again, but quiet this time.

"I…I was going to…I just…" He answered feebly. His shaking arms worsened. He folded them to decrease the effect.

Vash took a step back.

Clint fell silent. After a few seconds he swayed and then fell back. Millie was fast to catch him.

"And he has fainted two other times," Millie added.

Vash turned away from them. "Lay him on the ground and let him rest, it's all I know to do. If I give him strength, he'll die, if I take any away, he'll die." Vash said in frustration and hurt. "I don't know how to save him."

Meryl and Millie's hearts dropped, and after a long silence, Millie declared she would try to hurry and find them a first aide. "I'll be as fast as I can." She promised and departed.

Vash sat down heavily. Meryl looked over at him. His hair sparkled with shattered tainted glass, but the blood looked like it was finally drying and scabbing.

"Vash?"

He refused to look at her, it was impossible to look at her.

"…is Clint dying?" She asked gently.

He remained quiet, feeling the moment he stretched for his vocal chords, he would break apart instead of speak. So he remained silent and let one tear pass down his cheek.

Author's note: I do apologize because I actually had to cut the original chapter in half because it was so long. I will try to get the next update up quicker because it feels and sounds better in sequence with this one. With finals and all, I will not make promises, but just know it is on my top priority list. Also… this story really gets good hits, those of you who read it, would you please review every now and then? I do accept anonymous reviews. And if anyone has any questions, fell free to contact me.


	17. Devil Angel

The battle between Knives and Chame commenced. Anger boiled in Chame, he was not here to play mind games, to be played with or to be taunted. But Knives was the control of the battle, it was evident.

"Stop hiding!" Chame growled. "Stop toying with me! Show me what they did not see."

"Such a big mouth- you've always had one, funny, Janell's was so small," Knives laughed. He spoke, circling around his victim. Chame's eyes flickered and presently they found not just one Knives, but several pacing around him like shadows. Each was a complete copy down to the last tear of fabric and strand of hair. All stopped and stared at him. The half-demon closed his eyes, clearing his mind.

"Why do you waste my time with mind tricks? You know I can withstand them." He said. Chame opened his eyes to find one Knives standing to his left. "But if I must wait until you're done with your games, so heaven help me retain patience."

"So eager for death," Knives commented with cold eyes.

"Show me why I shouldn't be." Chame declared. "Or must I make you?" Unlike Knives' face, Chame's expression was still and serious. His eyes displayed a sense of a restlessness and tolerance. He licked his lips and continued to stare at his enemy.

….

"Knives…" Vash spoke out loud.

"Is that him?" Meryl asked. "Is he doing _that_?"

Vash's stomach churned. "It doesn't feel right, something's different…" He said solemnly.

"Dark," they both described, locking eyes. The world seemed to stop as they felt the eerie sensation.

Meryl knelt down next to Vash.

"Vash-? What's happening? How do I know? I _feel_ him…" She explained. Her blood seemed to pulse to a different beat and she shivered.

"His energy took an amazing leap. I don't understand…" Vash struggled to his feet. "Even humans can sense it." He took several steps away from her.

"Vash, what are you doing? You're not going over there."

He felt drawn to it. What was he doing? He experienced the phenomena of fear becoming obsession. Suddenly the fight was an event he had to see- to know… and yet a more sane part of him wanted nothing to do with it.

"I have to see," he explained in his tired voice. It was sucking him in like addiction or possession. He_ had _to go to it; it was like having to scratch an itch.

"Vash!" Meryl stood up. "You're not even stitched up. I won't let you go over there!"

They heard running.

"Millie's back," Meryl sighed. "Sit back down, Vash."

He didn't move, but continued to stare off into something Meryl couldn't see. Something wasn't right. Even when Millie entered the alleyway, he continued to stare looking displaced.

"I found one!" Millie exclaimed and handed the white box to Meryl, breathing very hard.

"Thank you, Millie." Meryl turned to Vash. "Vash, sit down."

Still staring, the gunman sat down gingerly.

Meryl snapped the white box open and quickly grabbed all necessary items for stitches while Millie retrieved a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Once the thread was secure through the needle's eye, Meryl turned to Vash and did her best to ignore his expression. He looked lost, worried, and empty, something she couldn't bare to look at. Carefully, she unbuckled and slipped off his blood-stained boot. Then she continued by stripping his leg of clothing. Her gut cringed at the cuts and it churned at the wound. How he ever managed to do anything when such a wreck was something she would never understand. Millie poured the hydrogen peroxide over the wound. As a result, his leg fizzed and bubbled. Vash's hand clenched the dry dirt at his side, but no sound escaped his lips. The grains of sand squeezed through his fingers and piled outside his palm. Mint green eyes darted to Meryl; they still looked lost. Meryl ignored his gaze and picked up the needle.

….

Chame's sharp eyes watched Knives' every move as the plant paced around him. His normal gun was in his palm, but his odd tranquilizer-like weapon was tucked away in his clothes. He was hoping to bring it into the battle when Knives was least expecting it.

'All I need is one shot of chemicals into him. He's superb, but he's bound to make a mistake,' Chame thought.

"Is it a shoot out you want?" Knives asked, and rose up his gun.

"It's the real you I want."

"This is the real me."

"I want the angel of death, the one only Legato saw."

Knives laughed. "I'll kill you in a matter of seconds, hardly worth all this trouble you went to."

"Show me!" Chame screamed his tolerance shattering.

Knives lowered his gun. Gently he closed his eyes.

Chame watched, his heart beating for an emotion between fear and excitement. Hatred raced through his veins.

When Knives opened his eyes again, Chame caught sight of the blank white glowing eyes. Eyes of the devil, eyes of murderer. Diablo eyes.

A piercing scream escaped out of Knives' mouth. Chame resisted the temptation to cover his ears. The plant brought his arms up and then slapped the air at his sides. An invisible force seemed to burst from him, so strong that Chame was knocked to the ground. The earth itself vibrated and loose dust flew into the air. Chame covered his face as the sandstorm originated. He squinted to see the monster, the devil angel, but Knives was gone.

Scrambling to his feet, Chame searched for his enemy as the ground regained balance. He stepped back into someone and whirled around to face the beast at gun point. Chame stared into the blank inanimate eyes of lost technology. Ornaments jutted out of Knives' back, each oddly shaped and suction to his skin like a disease. What was long and feathery appeared to be wings; four of them stretched out from his body.

Quickly, Chame brought the chemical-filled gun to the monster, but before the trigger was pulled, another ripple of power exploded from the being and cut into him. Once again Chame's feet had lost the floor and he tossed to the ground. When the wall of the force passed through him, his heart gave a loud thump as if trying to break free through his ribs. All his organs felt like they had been knocked out of place and jumbled under his skin.

Still clutching his weapons, Chame darted behind the nearest building, breathing hard.

….

Meryl stitched Vash's wound, watching the skin stretch together. Millie called to her.

"Clint's shaking," She said

Vash turned to see Clint's body moving madly.

"Is he having a seizure?" Meryl asked in alarm. Quickly she made the last few stitches and tied off the thread. Then she rushed to the teenager.

"His fever has gotten worse," Millie mention.

"We need to take him to a doctor!" Meryl cried.

"But the doctor already left."

"Selfish bum! Of course, he's one of the richest people here." Meryl growled.

Clint stopped shaking.

The girls hovered over him.

Meryl wiped across his mouth and nose. Frightened at the sight of crimson smeared on her skin, she turned to Millie. "What happened to him?" She demanded. "Where did you go and when did he start getting sick?"

"We saved the boy and we were near the plants and he wanted to find out how they were doing and-" she glanced at Vash, flustered. "He did what Vash does, he put his hands on the plant. He passed out."

"The plant did this to him?" She asked and she too looked at Vash. "Vash, what's happening to him?"

Vash didn't look at her as he answered. "He was always getting sick, that's why he took medication."

"What does he have? Has he been dying this whole time?" Meryl asked.

His mint green eyes met her with the same lost look, and this time Meryl couldn't escape them. Quickly, she regained herself.

"Tell me who he is, Vash!" Meryl demanded. "What's wrong with him?"

"Knives," Vash whispered and put his boot back on. "He'll know how to help." Vash stood up again and looked longingly out of the alleyway.

Meryl stood up. "Millie," she addressed. "Should we take Clint to Knives?"

Millie looked at Meryl fearfully.

Meryl returned it with doubt and glanced back at Vash, who was struggling to reach the street.

"If we knew what was wrong with him exactly, we may be able to help," Millie pointed out. "Go with Vash."

Vash was on the street now, in the sunlight. After a moment of sensing Knives, Vash recalled that the fight had somehow been relocated farther east. He had to get over there, just over that eastern hill. Knives would be there. What Vash would find there made him fearful yet eager. A sensation grasped his mind and body alike, pulling him closer to his brother.

He had crossed onto another street when someone pulled his arm around her.

"He was- is fighting Chame- you know that, right?" Meryl asked. She readjusted his arm in hopes to help stable him. The last person she wanted to see was that traitor in the act of killing.

"Yes." Vash answered.

A part of him was glad they were nearing the hill and even more ecstatic they were walking up it.

Meryl shifted uncomfortably. "He told Chame to kill me," she said with difficulty. "He won't stop to save Clint. I don't even know whether it is possible for him to."

As they grew closer to the peak of the hill, their insides squirmed.

"He's the only chance I have," Vash explained.

"There must be another way…" but they had reached the top now. Crumbling buildings were beside them and a dark atmosphere filled their very being.

An adrenaline rush welcomed Vash at the top of the hill, and he let himself fall to the ground.

What was it that made it so fearful? The bluntness of it? The image? The truth? Vash's and Meryl's spirits immediately felt they had been split in two. The figure should have looked awesome, stunning, but it was spectral, inanimate, haunting and even…devilish.

Knives was there, he was over the hill. His figure was still a far distance away, and what once they found beautiful had somehow lost its luster; its richness. It was disturbing. This was the truth, yet it was horrific to see the rigid wings jutting out of Vash's twin like some gargoyle. Huge and stretched out, they appeared feathery, like a bird's. The wings were accompanied with chords that swept out from Knives' back and other smaller ornaments cleaved to his skin. Intertwined, they formed a massive fiery pattern that contained intricate detail.

Instantly, Meryl recognized the angry eyes- devil eyes, full of blood, lust, and hatred. She was taken aback.

This wasn't right.

….

Sneaking about rubble and wounded buildings, Chame aimed his small tranquilizer gun at Knives. Holding his breath, he pulled the trigger.

Knives' eyes darted to him and he glided backward out of Chame's view, avoiding the virus.

Chame crept swiftly between buildings, but his speed was no advantage. Only seconds later was his enemy behind him, forcing his way into Chame's mind. Trembling, Chame strained to fight it off. He took his chance with the trigger again, but Knives was beside him now and Chame could feel the dirt crumble under his shoe soles just being at the plant's side.

Knives' fingers dug into the skin of Chame's chest. An electrical shock pulsed inside Chame, knocking him yards away, his pistol flying in a different direction.

With self proclaimed authority, Knives kicked the chemical gun back into Chame's hands. Then he ran to him.

Grabbing his weapon, Chame scrambled to his feet and halfway up Knives kicked him down again.

With all power available, Chame latched onto Knives and pulled the plant down with him. They rolled and tackled over each other like beasts full of an infinite amount of hate for one another.

Chame went for Knives' neck and pinned the plant to the ground, half standing.

Powered with hate, Knives grabbed Chame's fore arms and pressed his burning palms on the half-demon's skin. They were hot like fire, like burning coals pressed against Chame's skin. The skin tissue melted from the burning heat. Chame flinched and because of reflex, pulled away, but Knives' grip tightened. Chame screamed and struggled to free himself. He had had no idea that in this form plants could contain such a large rage of abilities. Knives pulled him closer and kicked him in the stomach with both legs.

Like an injured animal, he rolled across the ground again, gapping at his blistered seared hand prints formed on his arms.

….

"What? What is he?" Meryl asked in horror. Fear began rushing through her bloodstream again.

"Angelic," Vash explained, but she found nothing angelic about the driven devil- likewise it was as if he was Satan himself. An invisible darkness reached out from him.

"You might have seen it," Vash continued, his voice trembled. "It's another form of a plant, a plant using enormous power; all the plants with the disease have been this way before death."

Meryl wanted it to stop. Everything to freeze, to leave, but this was Gunsmoke's reality, the truth behind it….and Vash was part of it- one of them. So was Clint wasn't he? That's why Vash was so attached, and possibly why they looked so similar.

"You can save him!" Meryl declared. "Clint's a plant, isn't he? Millie!"" She called and without the least consent, dashed down the hill

She reached the alleyway where Millie was hunched over Clint, who was still unconscious and very white. The silver sunglasses had been removed and pocketed in Millie's possession.

"He's gotten worse," Millie was beginning to sound very emotional.

"Millie, you're right. He's a plant! Hurry, bring him to Vash!" Meryl ordered.

"Vash can save him?" Millie asked.

"He _has _to." Meryl gently helped Millie with Clint. His head flopped over in her arms. He felt a lot heavier when he was completely limp, but she was in such a hurry she hardly noticed.

They proceeded out of the alleyway and across an intersection. They could see Vash at the top of the hill.

Vash watched Knives and Chame in anguish. More than ever he was feeling trapped and sick witnessing his brother's violent tactics. When Clint was delivered to his feet, even more dread and obligation spread over him.

"There must be something you can do," Millie said. "If he's a plant."

Vash stared at his son's inanimate face. "I can't," he whispered.

"Yes you can! I've seen you do it with Knives." Meryl yelled in frustration.

"You don't understand." Vash answered. Vash looked at Meryl with those sad lost eyes again. Every crease in his skin seemed to deepen and droop.

"Is he infected with the virus?" Millie asked.

Meryl made a silent gasp, horrified the idea hadn't come to her earlier.

"No."

Staring at Clint's face was so much like looking into a mirror, yet he was unspeakably different with his body dysfunctions. Clint was his son… and Vash was losing him. Vash looked away. This was unbearable. He couldn't watch this, and how could Meryl? At the moment it seemed impossible to ignore the facts; Clint was at his feet and Knives was far away on Vash's other side. Why did Clint try so hard for his father? Vash didn't deserve any of this unconditional love he felt. Why couldn't Clint have just stayed put with his mother? Vash's heart felt like it had been torn in two and it was crushing under an immense heavy weight. Clint was _his_ responsibility! How could he have let this happen?

Vash's eyes watered at the self regret

"Knives isn't coming. If he does, it will be too late," Meryl said.

Clint wasn't Knives' responsibility.

Meryl and Millie waited for his reply, which turned out to be tears. He sensed the disability and hated it. He felt inadequate and helpless. He didn't have the knowledge…

"You can do it, Vash." Meryl touched his shoulder comfortingly. She suddenly understood a large portion of his sorrow. Who would want to do such things after seeing Satan's angel on the battlefield? No one would want to be a plant after that….

"I don't know how," Vash whispered wetly. "Because it's the plant in him that's killing him."

This was a turn of events Meryl hadn't expected. Her hand now felt heavy on his shoulder.

"He's only half plant. His body attacks itself. If I give him my energy it will probably make it worse, and if I take any away, he'll have nothing holding on."

…

With flaming arms, Chame pressed the gun into Knives' chest and pulled the trigger.

"You need to reload," Knives replied at the sound of the empty click. He then pulled out his gun and fired several bullets into Chame.

Chame was growing tired and becoming reckless. Knives watched him struggle with his new wounds, enjoying the moment.

….

Meryl looked over Clint, thinking.

"If we can't do anything, Vash, he will die. At least try…" she said.

"I think his chances are better with you," Millie commented with worry in her voice.

Vash knelt down next to Clint. Meryl was right, he had to try. Whatever happened, he wouldn't just watch Clint die. Vash placed his hand on Clint's middle.

"I'll take his plant energy and give him some of mine own, hopefully at the same time. My body can filter through it. The energy I give him will eventually be just as bad, but if this will work, I think we can buy him more time." Vash explained, sounding nervous.

"Please, Vash…" Meryl whispered.

Vash took a deep breath and let his senses travel into Clint body. He needed to be precise at the swap of energy.

Millie and Meryl held hands in prayer.

….

Chame had made it around a large half-eaten building, leaving behind a trail of blood. Following ominously behind him, Knives watched the half-demon struggle. Chame staggered and continued with all his might, while Knives lurked in his shadow, his wings flowing and eyes piercing with a smirk. No smile occupied the plant's face, but the mocking expression was somehow etched into the corners of his skin. Finally Chame collapsed, too mangled to move. With the new bullets biting him, he remained still.

"This is what you wanted to see?" Knives called to him.

If Chame could just reload this gun…but his body wouldn't move.

"I told you. You had no chance."

"I win either way, but your death is what I really sought… not to mention the $$60 billion for the orphanage- something Wolfwood never got a hold of….but for my own purposes… I will see Janell again."

"Sometimes you remind me too much of Vash the way you are with that woman." Knives replied as a compartment of his gun moved and a shiny orb was shown revolving. Knives stared into it for a split second, grasping the thought of the power from being angel with an angel arm…but what would be the point in wasting so much energy? A simple 2 or 5 would finish the job.

"I hope Vash kills you," Chame barked. "After all, _he does have more potential_- more power. Is that why you're after him? You're afraid of his power?"

Knives smirked and aimed the gun.

….

Vash suddenly felt light headed, and now he was the one who was shaking uncontrollably. He removed his hands and dizzily sat back.

"Did it work?" Millie asked. She and Meryl hovered over Clint with alert eyes.

Clint's eyes snapped open with a jolt.

The blank white orbs caused Millie to gasp and she and Meryl clashed to the ground.

"What is that?" Clint asked and went to sit up, but found out he felt too dizzy.

Meryl was taken aback with the blank eyes, and Millie voiced the question she had. "Meryl, can he even see?"

She would assume so. The eyes had a terrible connotation with her though… especially when there were some just like in on the battle field.

Vash hugged Clint. Unable to cease his tears, he cried into his son's blond dirty hair.

Unaware of what was going on, or what that immense power he sensed was, Clint tried to look at his father for answers. Then suddenly his eyes felt too heavy…he was so tired. They shut and he was too tired to open them.

Vash would never let him go again. Clint would never fall so close to death again, Vash wouldn't let him.

Meryl felt drawn to their love. She yearned to join them, but restrained herself and shared tears with Millie.

"Dad?" Clint whispered so quietly that Vash had to strain to hear him. "What is that?" He ached to know what was happening; what he sensed.

"Sh…don't worry about it, rest. Just rest." He cried. "I thought I had lost you." He whispered. "Hang in there."

Feeling drowsy, all Clint wanted was sleep and peace. He fell heavy in Vash's arms and his breathing slowed.

….

"Miaw," Rade brushed himself around the dying Chame. The cat stopped to look at Knives with his big red eyes. Besides revenge, Rade was basically all Chame lived for. The cat mewed again.

In reality, it had nothing to do with the cat whatsoever… and nothing to do with feeling unable or anything close to weak, but Knives didn't shoot.

It was likely Chame would bleed to death. Knives could kill him easily, but it wasn't about being easy. He didn't feel sorry for Matthew. He found more logic in killing him, but Knives turned and left him, either for life or death, he didn't know.

Meryl heard his footsteps when he neared them minutes later. She stepped back from the eerie killer who ordered her slaughter. In Meryl's mind, she had pictured Knives to have blood wings, and blank eyes, but he retained nothing of the sort. He looked almost the same as he did everyday, except for the large rips in the back of his trench coat. His whole appearance was uncomfortable because he looked like nothing had happened at all.

Vash was still crying, quieter now, and he didn't bother to look up. He felt that if his eyes left Clint, the teenager would somehow die in his arms.

Knives eyes flashed to Meryl. He noted her fear for him, but ignored it.

"They've organized a camp a few iles away from here." He spoke.

"And how will we get there? Vash has already put too much strain on his leg, and Clint is in critical condition," Meryl said courageously. She tried to find her business self again.

Knives stared her down.

Meryl's instincts twitched.

"He's out of medication," Vash explained.

"And what do you propose we do?" Knives asked coldly.

An uncomfortable dark silence set inside Meryl at his tone. He was sickening. She could imagine the death of Chame reflected in his shiny eyes. She wished he would just leave them- right now. Life would be so much better for them if he hadn't ever existed. Catching her thoughts, she felt slightly guilty, but this man was like a virus to them. He sucked everyone dry of anything they had to offer without any gratitude. He didn't deserve to be with them, he had done nothing to earn her presence and what had she done to be given his? He was a murderer who valued no one's life but his own! He had ordered her dead, yet here he was just talking to them like nothing of the sort mattered. He was chillingly dark.

"Can you help him, Knives?" Millie asked.

"He's unbalanced." Vash explained.

"Have you tried to transfer energy?" He asked.

"Yes, but it will only start it all over." Vash answered. He prayed Knives would find an answer. Transferring energy would only buy Clint more and more time. How much could he take? Vash wouldn't let him die no matter what happened- he couldn't bear it. He would do _anything_ to keep Clint alive.

"There is nothing here to help him. It will have to get him by," Knives stated. "At least until we reach a town."

Knives' attitude and contradictory made Meryl want to yell at him- attack him. How dare he act so casual? He didn't deserve to be near anyone here, but Meryl's fear held her back from pointing this idea out. The idea that Knives could kill her any moment, and wished her dead, was somewhat more horrifying now that it had been exposed to her.

"What about the citizens?" Vash asked.

"They've all gone to the camp."

Meryl didn't believe him one bit, why should she?

"All of them?" Vash asked. "Are you sure?"

"I'll double check," Meryl said hastily.

Knives eyes darted to her. "By yourself?" He asked.

Meryl hesitated, being alone would be dangerous, but Knives was the real danger. If Millie went with her, Knives would be with Vash and Clint alone.

"Yes." She replied.

"Want me to come, Meryl?" Millie asked.

She hesitated. "No. I'm going alone."

"I'll go," Knives slipped her a sly smile.

Meryl felt her insides stir.

He was taunting her, enjoying it. Vash could see it on his smirk, but he remained silent. He had to. Meryl would have to be strong if they were going to keep Clint alive.

"Meryl, take Millie with you. We'll be fine," Vash insisted. He would be alone with Knives, if his brother wanted to kill him, he could have done it ages ago.

Meryl opened her mouth to disagree.

"Just go," Vash insisted.

"We'll hurry."

"No, search everything."

Vash watched the two girls depart, feeling Knives' eyes on him. When he could no longer see Meryl and Millie, his eyes reached his brother's for a very short moment. Vash didn't want to look at them. He turned his eyes back to Clint.

Had Knives finally killed Chame? Vash would never dare ask, and he didn't want to know the answer. The silence was uncomfortable between them. Continuous violent images went through Vash's mind, making him sick and nauseous. Yet he was subject to keep his uneasiness silent. Enemy or not, Knives was the only one who had the knowledge to restore Clint back to himself.


	18. Revive

Meryl was glad to be back to the house. The market had had the longest line she had ever seen and finally, after waiting for a half hour, she had made it back to the little house where Vash was currently staying.

Only seconds upon her arrival was she bombarded by the outlaw.

"Meryl, where's Clint? I can't find him. Have you seen him?" Vash asked her. He waited for her reply expectantly.

"I just got here." She answered and set her paper bag on the table with a gentle thud.

"Hmmm…" He said thoughtfully, and departed the room in search of the teenager.

Meryl watched him go, feeling uncomfortable.

"Didn't he tell you where he was going?" She asked.

"No, he's in the house somewhere…but I thought I've been through all the rooms… I can't find him." He called back from the other room.

Meryl hesitated and followed after Vash. She followed him everywhere, they went up the stairs, in the bathroom, in his bedroom, but the whole house was silent. Once in a while a floor board would creak under the outlaw's weight, and then she would follow his footsteps and creak the same one. As they searched, Meryl grew more frightened. Where was Clint? And where was Knives?

Vash came to a halt suddenly, and Meryl almost ran into him.

"I know," he turned to her. "The attic."

Meryl stared back at him in silence. His eyes were livid, almost excited.

"The attic?" She repeated.

"Come on!"

Before she knew it they were climbing up to the attic, where the darkness grew thick and spider webs lingered on the walls. Still she followed Vash, stepping in his footprints left in the dust forsaken floor. The attic was so empty and as such it felt twice the size of the little house.

Vash stopped again.

"Did you hear that?" He asked.

Meryl fell silent. Listening hard, the stillness seemed to throb in her ears. They waited in it so long, what may have been seconds, felt like minutes.

He turned to her.

Then suddenly she spotted them- two glowing blank eyes piercing into the angry darkness, bearing down on Vash.

"Vash!" But before Meryl could finish his name, the dark mass had tackled him to the ground. Large wings reached out from the villain's back. Cords swept out from him and several ended on the ground at Meryl's feet.

She stepped back, her heart pounding in her ears.

Knives had Vash's neck, he was strangling his brother! Meryl could see the outline of Vash's limbs flailing madly and could hear the choking cough of death in his throat. The devil eyes glared down at him, and a smirk spread across Knives' face as the limbs slowed to a stop.

With a sudden jerk, the spacious eyes darted to her. She stumbled back more steps. Knives stood up straight, facing her. His large wings reached up into the darkness; so far she was unable to see their end. He was gigantic.

The eyes bore into her until her head hurt and she felt dizzy, like pressure and gravity would soon compress her.

She ran for it.

Suddenly her foot caught on something in the darkness and she fell forward onto the floor. Scrambling to get up, she noticed it was Clint, lifeless and inanimate.

"Clint!" She cried desperately. "Clint!"

His eyes snapped open, blank and spacious.

"Get up!" She cried. For every moment Knives was getting closer, taking his time to savor each step closer to her.

"Clint!" Meryl shook him and large wings suddenly emerged from his back and the cords wrapped around her. She gasped and tried to pull away.

Knives stopped at them, staring down into her.

"You're only human." The body said.

Meryl looked wildly at Knives. What had he done to Clint?

She shouted out, struggling to free herself from the chords. Then without her control, the ground grew soft and she was somehow sinking into it.

"Let her die," but the voice from the body now sounded nothing like Clint; it was Knives' issuing from Clint's voice box.

She continued to struggle in vain until the voice was in her head.

"All will die."

Knives was bending over her, his wings stretched out, encaging her from behind.

"Logic."

Her mind was compressing and hundreds of words were flowing in all at once. Her eye lids flickered madly, and she tried to turn away from the glowing eyes, but they weren't on her, they were in her now; eating her.

She tried and tried to scream.

Finally the yell erupted from her lips.

And she woke up, face down in a sleeping bag. Her heart was still racing a marathon as the images slowly disintegrated in her mind. She caught her breath trying desperately to remember where she was and what was going on. The suns were up, their rays ventured through the thin pale fabric of the tent, which swayed slightly from a light breeze.

She took a deep breath, continuously telling herself it was all just a nightmare and pushing away the idea that something similar may come true. When calmed enough, she rolled over.

"It was just a nightmare," she said out loud.

Millie was already gone, and Meryl wondered what time it was.

She was in a tent at the camp iles away from May city.

She took yet another deep breath, wondering how Vash and Clint _really_ were doing.

After another moment she left her tent and ventured into his. She was relieved when she spotted Knives had departed already. Vash was laying, but tried to sit up when she had entered, and Clint was still very pale as he lay still in a borrowed sleeping bag. They had been lucky people had brought extra items. A man who had a thick mustache had no trouble giving them shelter, saying they had brought too many tents and sleeping bags anyway.

"Where's Knives?" Meryl asked.

"Millie came in and said she was going to help the camp with sorting supplies- he went with her." Vash answered.

She found it out of his devilish character, but remained silent as she remembered yesterday. Meryl looked away from Vash. "I hope you are feeling at least a little better than yesterday." She said.

"I really wish there was something for me to do." Vash answered warmly. "I think I would feel better out there sorting supplies, or helping people."

Before Meryl could tell him he was in no condition, someone else had spoke.

"Breakfast!"

Meryl jumped at the chill voice as the tent flap was pushed open. "Oh, I see," Knives smirked after eyeing the two up suspiciously. He handed them each a plate, where one lonely bagel with cream cheese sat.

Skin crawling, Meryl took it a little more forceful than intended, and watched him depart again; leaving her alone with Vash and a sleeping Clint.

"You better eat all of it," Meryl told Vash, even though a part of her felt that it was poisoned under Knives' works.

Vash knew it was necessary for him to eat, but his troubled mind occupied everything needed for a strong appetite.

They ate in silence.

Meryl could tell he wanted to talk to her, and she grew nervous pondering what it could be about. She knew that whatever it was bothered him by the way he loathsomely bit into his bagel. He even snuck a glance at her.

Feeling self conscious, she turned away and pretended to examine the sleeping bag that Clint was in. It wasn't much of a friend to run away from needed conversations, and though she planned for the awkward silence to diminish, it grew instead. She sighed and faced him.

"What's bothering you, Vash?" She asked.

He looked slightly startled.

"Is there something you want to talk about?" Meryl inquired.

"You know me too well," he gave a half smile.

"I'd hope to know you well enough since we've been together so long."

"Been together?" He repeated.

"Traveling." She tried to say it casually, as if it was nothing at all, as if that's all they did. "Millie too," she added.

"I've never been with anyone so long."

His words made Meryl nervous. What was she supposed to say back?

"It was yesterday," Vash started.

That was obvious, _everything_ was yesterday.

"Before you found me. I'm afraid I did something wrong."

'Oh, this wouldn't be that bad', Meryl sighed within herself, and scooted a little closer to him.

"Meryl, I hurt them. Maybe it was because I wanted to find you, I don't know…"

"Who?" Meryl asked. "The people who broke glass over your head?"

"It's the first time I did that…you know…self defense." He said sadly. "I really went to fight back. I shot them, and not just once!"

Meryl let a moment of silence pass between them before she spoke. "Vash," she said calmly. "Let me ask you something. If I had people trying to kill me, would you expect me to let them?"

"No, but that's different. You don't give them reason to."

"If I did give them reason?"

"No one should die."

"Then it's okay," she said more gently. "You said no one has the right to kill another, and they're included in that."

"But maybe-"

"If I was in trouble, would you save me?"

"Of course."

"Self defense is saving yourself."

Vash looked away from her sadly. But could he have escaped without thrashing? Where was the line? He had toed it.

"Listen, Vash, you didn't hurt them to save yourself, you saved yourself to save me, and to save Clint. There's nothing wrong with that."

Silence swept over them again as Vash considered this logical idea… as he considered yesterday. He had assumed Knives had killed Chame, Knives seemed to be too happy and laid back to have let him live. So would this virus come to a close?

"Now what?" He asked. "If Chame is dead with a buried past, what's next?"

"Now? Now you rest."

Vash gave another half smile, but a part of him was afraid, afraid of Knives again.

"And what about you?" He asked.

His voice sounded serene, but concerned. Meryl looked at his mint clear eyes and felt a little uneasy. "Well… I'm sure a letter will be sent as to where Bernardeli will be relocated. I'll file a report about the virus, and they'll probably put me on a new job." She said offhandedly.

Vash's eyes flickered and a mischievous smile broke across his face. "You know, I can't help it that all the bounty hunters are after me and that I cause chaos wherever I go." He sounded hopeful.

But Meryl knew she wouldn't be assigned to Vash again. She wasn't sure whether she really wanted to or not. She liked Vash…but…

"I'll have to leave soon anyway…" Meryl looked down at her ring.

Vash followed her eyes. He wanted to sound happy for her, but was at a loss of words.

"Vash, do you- are you-" She almost said it; she couldn't believe she had attempted to ask him about his feelings for her. The thought was almost embarrassing; she had almost exposed a severe side of herself to this man she wasn't even engaged to. If Charles had known her thoughts at that moment, he would have been a mess. Thankfully Millie walked in before she could finish the sentence.

"A Sandsteamer is coming to pick us all up. It's on its way to Caliber and will be passing just by here. They say it'll take us if there's room!" She said happily. "And Knives says there may be a medical center on board. I hope they have bathtubs with warm water, like those nice fancy kind with the drama and dinner."

"Millie, even if it did, we don't have the money for it. You have to be riding first class, and I think drama is that last thing we need around here." Meryl sighed.

"But they have those lotteries where you could win a first class ticket."

"No one ever wins those. It's just a scam for money. Only the real expensive Sandsteamers do that and we don't even know what kind of Sandsteamer this is and if it's even going to pick us up."

"If we all bought a ticket, I'd bet we'd have a real good chance of winning." Millie continued.

Knives poked his head in the tent and gave a glare at Millie. The large insurance girl was suddenly reminded of an earlier conversation.

"Oops, I'm sorry to bother you two, I just had to share the news! I didn't mean to interrupt." Millie told them.

"Interrupt?" Meryl repeated.

"Yeah, Knives said you were having-" She suddenly covered her mouth and her eyes darted to Vash's for some kind of communication. Once she regained herself she continued to a new subject. "I mean, I need to clean your breakfast." She picked up the plates as Meryl tried to grasp and inkling of what she had meant. "And then I need to get back to work helping the camp." She departed.

"That was odd," Meryl voiced. She then glanced at Vash and was startled to see him slightly more flustered. Something was going on between them that she didn't know about.

A muffled groan came from the tired teenager at the other side of the tent.

Vash looked to Clint. His eyes were barely open and he rubbed his forehead uncomfortably.

"Where?" He asked.

Meryl went to his side. He looked worse up close. His eyes seemed to be retreating into his skull, leaving a dark rim around them. When she placed her hand on his forehead, she realized just how pale he was. Meryl herself wasn't very dark, but Clint was whiter than her by at least two shades. His forehead felt uncomfortably warm. "Another fever," she announced. "Go back to sleep, Clint, we're getting you to a medical center."

"Knives always made it for me." He said before closing his eyes again.

Meryl removed her hand and returned to Vash.

"He'll be good for the next hour, and then you should…help him again." She said. After a moment she spoke again. "Why didn't you tell Millie and me before? Why didn't you tell us what he was?"

"I was afraid it would push you away," Vash answered honestly. "Half human, half plant… what would you think?"

There was that look in his eyes again.

"Why does it matter what I think?" Meryl asked, sounded almost irritated.

"You're my best friend, it matters a great deal."

"I'm marrying Charles."

The tone of her voice surprised Vash. The strength only bloomed at his name while the words before it were softer, persuasive even.

"That doesn't make your opinion of any lesser value."

Why couldn't he let her go? What did he really want from her? He was suffocating her.

"I didn't want you to know because I didn't want it to come between our friendship." Vash explained.

"Why would it?"

"It seemed to matter a lot when you believed he was my son." Vash pointed out.

"I'm sorry… it was wrong of me." She apologized roughly, yet sincere. Then she laughed. "Why did it matter?" She wondered. "It was stupid…"

"No it wasn't," Vash said, but an undertone of surprise occupied his voice. He even thought it was silly at the time, but now looking back, doubtful ideas began to rise in his mind. Why did it matter so much to Meryl to know whether or not Clint was his son? The thought probed his mind. Was she jealous? Or maybe just hurt? Maybe Millie was right after all, if Meryl was really over him when they met, then why did it matter to her so much if he had a son? Shouldn't she be happy for him?

"It must be hard to have a father die so young. Was it from the virus?" Meryl asked.

Vash couldn't answer, but Meryl took the silence for a correct "yes".

"I don't understand. Are there more plants like you and Knives?" She asked. She had always assumed them to be alone. "Or like the other plants we use? How would that work to get a cross?" She glanced at Vash, and realized she had gone off sounding childish. She blushed a little from her actions as she remembered Vash wasn't exactly accepting of what he was. Asking such questions might seem too nosey.

He was quiet for a while. "I don't know."

Meryl let her spark of curiosity die.

Spaces were in each of them- areas too personal to expose, or too harmful. Yet somehow a part of Meryl wished to know these spaces in Vash, to help fill them. Because of dangerous circumstances, Vash had left them untouched, but she loathed him being so alone.

….

Finally the Sandsteamer reached them, and to Millie's delight it was one of the largest Sandsteamers that was still put to work. The sight amazed nearly everyone. It had to be close to tripling the standard Sandsteamer in size. Sparkling, the surface was glossed over and looked freshly washed, and the dust it disturbed was to a minimum- unlike the other Sandsteamers that spewed sand all other their dirty surfaces.

When it came to a stop, it still took several hours before everyone was comfortably inside, out of the heat.

"Millie does say some odd things," Vash admitted to Meryl once they were inside. "But most of the time she's right."

"Excuse me," a young looking man in a navy blue outfit interrupted them. "Would you like to buy a lottery ticket? We're having another one now that there are more people on board. The winner gets to ride in first class."

"How much are they?" Millie asked.

"Hey, I'll buy one!" Vash raised his hand.

Knives shot him a skeptical look.

"Vash, don't fall for _that_," Meryl advised with a quick glare at the employee.

"$$30."

Ignoring Meryl's advice, the gunman paid and received a slip of paper in return.

"Vash, you're the most unlucky person alive." Knives reminded.

"But Vash is the luckiest person I know," Millie argued as she purchased her own lottery ticket. "I don't think there are many people that can survive even one bounty hunter."

The employee carefully interrupted again, tilting his navy blue hat. "The winner will be announced in only a few hours." He explained and then began to search for more victims.

Clint coughed hoarsely. Aware of nothing, his face looked pale and inanimate, and sent uncomfortable stirrings in Meryl's stomach. Vash looked at him too and his eyes flashed to Knives.

"Medical center?" He asked.

"Lead the way," Knives stared at his brother for he knew none of them had a sliver of an idea where it was located.

Vash's eyes scanned their surrounding area and then darted back to his brother.

"Knives, would you… help him?"

"What do you want me to do?"

Vash ventured closer to his brother. "He said you made his medication." He whispered, but nonetheless felt Meryl's eyes wander curiously to them.

"Is that so?" Knives asked, not bothering to suppress his voice.

"Would you?" Vash asked.

"I don't know anything off the top of my head…" He droned out the last word.

Vash waited for him to say more, feeling somehow very uncomfortable so close to him.

"But with studies…"

"What do you need? I'll get you anything," Vash answered at once.

A spark went into Knives' eyes at his words. He heard the desperation in Vash's voice, and possibly a hint of fear. "I just need a place to study him… a medical room, to myself. That shouldn't be too hard to manage. I think I can even get one myself…"

….

Vash received directions to the medical center from one of the employees on the Sandsteamer. With great pace, he led them to the area.

Knives lured away most of the nurses by spreading a rumor that a boy had broken his leg. Once the area was empty, he found a vacant medical room, and locked it behind them. The room was stinging white and had a strong sanitary smell. Counters and cupboards were resting against walls and an island was in the center. Because the lighting was so bright, Meryl had to blink several times before her eyes had adjusted.

"You lied to them?" Vash asked his brother.

Meryl thought it was the least of Knives' vises. Lying was nothing compared to some of the other actions he had taken.

"I didn't _lie_, it was just false advertisement. You said you were willing to do anything, I thought you could endure a little deception." he concluded simply. "Now, correct me if I'm wrong," he darted to a new subject, "but you _have_ given me permission to conduct procedures in order to find or create a vaccination."

"Yes…?" Vash answered curiously.

"Perfect." Knives grinned and tapped the tips of his fingers together. "Alright Clint, let's get to business."

"Knives…?" Vash asked suspiciously.

"What? Come, brother, to keep things in balance and make something effective it is required to do some research- I can't miss an inch of information. This _will_ take a while."

Vash watched Knives claw onto Clint's arm and pull him closer to the island counter.

"What about the nurses?" Millie asked.

"You'll have to distract them," Knives pointed out as he began to search the cupboards and counters until he found a long white doctor jacket. He slipped out of his black one (which still had large shredded holes in the back) and put the white one securely on, buttoning up the front.

Clint sneezed.

In return, Knives pointed to the hard island counter.

Dizzy, the teenager slowly got on it.

Knives rested his eyes on Clint, and it marked the first time Vash could remember his brother having a Christmas. Just like children waited for the holiday impatiently, Knives had the same enthusiasm- and this enthusiasm had been kept locked up for too long. A new stream in science had been right in front of him, and as a dog may heed his master when otherwise wishing to devour a savory steak, Knives had watched this new piece of science with a great desire to investigate. Finally Vash had granted him the opportunity to do so. The glow in his eyes was evident, if not disturbing.

Still grinning, he placed on the surgical mask.

Clint was more awake now as he watched his uncle nervously.

"What- What are you planning to do with him exactly?" Meryl asked, disgusted and bewildered at his itching interest.

"Half-bred anatomy." Knives pulled his white gloves on tight, and let them go with a snap.

Clint scooted away from him. "Don't give me an autopsy, I'm not dead!" He exclaimed as Knives neared him.

"I'm not cutting into you," Knives sauntered forward.

"I haven't been taken to many doctors," Clint announced, cringing.

"Who said anything about doctors- I'm more of a scientist."

"And I don't like needles."

"Just stay….still!" Then like two vipers, Knives' hands latched to him and pinned him down on the table.

Once in place, Knives forced his mouth open and flashed a flashlight in it. "Wider," he ordered.

With great difficulty, Clint tried to forces his jaw to extend further.

"Ammm…." Knives scanned his mouth. "Saliva sample…" he muttered to himself.

Clint sneezed.

"Thanks," Knives growled, rubbing the spit particles from his face. "I _was_ going to get you a cup or something." He moved away from his victim.

Millie, Meryl, and Vash were still watching him as he found a small beaker.

"It's going to be a long wait, and it _is_ distracting," Knives glanced at them.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Vash asked.

"Keep everything out of my way, including the nurses." He said. "Don't worry about exchanging energy with Clint, it's not good for your body to keep rebuilding itself- your wounds and cuts will never heal. I'll pick it up." He told Vash.

Millie unlocked the door.

"See yuh," Vash told him and Clint before departing into the hall. The door closed with a small _click_.

"Knives seems like he's in a really good mood," Millie acknowledged. "I don't think I've ever seen him this happy."

Meryl grew frustrated with Millie's oblivious thoughts. Knives wasn't trustworthy, and was probably working a way to rid the world of them. What was worse was that he would be alone with Clint for hours and hours, who knew what was _really_ going on in there. Maybe Clint would come out completely brainwashed.

"He's starting to act the way he used to before this whole Chame disease started, before I met up with you two again." Vash said, full of thought. Did that prove for sure that Knives had finally murdered Chame? After several seconds he added. "Watch out, because he might start making up quirks about me. He's cruel that way, loves the drama, and loves to play with people's minds… but I suppose it's better than really brain teasing…"

They wandered around the Sandsteamer aimlessly until they found a small little snack shack where Millie grabbed some pudding, and Vash grasped the chance to rest his aching sore body. As they sat and Millie ate a voice erupted over the speakers, announcing the winner of the lottery.

"Hurry, Vash, get your ticket out! They might call us!" Millie said, scrambling for her own.

"The winner of this lottery will receive top-notch rooming in first class, which includes a bathtub, a shower, service, bed for two, a window, closet, _and_ a bottle of sparkling fruit juice donated by Fruit Juice Inc." The speaker boomed.

Meryl felt she would suddenly do anything for a warm relaxing bubble bath- the best way to relieve any kind of stress.

"The number is 25-"

Vash and Millie stared at their tickets.

"-056-"

Still in the game.

"-99-" Pause.

'Yes? What is it?' Meryl found herself wondering, growing more eager by the moment.

"1."

"Millie, that's you!" Meryl cried.

"I won!" Millie said enthusiastically. She hugged both Meryl and Vash, acting as if she couldn't have done it without their help.

"Once again 25056991, if you have this lottery ticket, please report to customer's service."

"Come on!" Millie tugged them and they followed in her quickening wake.

Because they had passed Customer's service several times that day, it didn't take long for them to locate it. When they reached it, Millie slapped her ticket on the counter and announced she was the winner, still slightly out of breath.

A man dressed in the custom blue uniform peered at her ticket. "Okay, just sign here," he said, retrieving a paper and jabbing the spot with his index finger.

As Millie happily signed, Meryl noticed another man with hot red hair and a slightly pudgy face stare Millie down. Meryl watched him curiously.

The man who was currently interacting with Millie handed her a card and key. "This is your first class pass and key," he explained. "It's down that way," he pointed, "room 304."

"Oh I can't believe I won," Millie chirped. "Meryl, you can get a nice hot bath now and…"

"Millie." The red-haired man said in slight awe, Meryl continued to watch him.

"…and Vash, you can some visit us too!" Millie continued.

The red-haired man nodded to the other uniformed man. "I'll show it to her."

"Sir?"

"Do I always have to repeat myself?"

"No sir!"

The red-haired man walked out from behind the counter, and Meryl saw he was dressed in a stunning suit- it was evident he was well off.

"Millie, this way."

The fact he knew her name didn't seem to phase Millie, but Vash was catching the suspicions quickly now.

The man escorted them to the hall and stopped, turning to face them.

Millie glanced around wondering if they had reached the room.

"Millie Thompson?" He asked.

"Yes?"

"Do you know who I am?"

Vash and Meryl exchanged inquisitive looks.

"A man who works on the Sandsteamer," she answered.

"I'm the man who _owns_ the Sandsteamer."

Millie blinked and it obviously wasn't the welcome the man had been expecting. He continued.

"I'll give you anything you want on this Sandsteamer. Millie, is there anything you want?"

"Another room for my other friends would be helpful. There's not room for Vash, Clint, and Knives in ours."

"Ours?"

"Meryl and I, and can it be next to us if you have any spare first class rooms?"

Vash was not surprised with her forwardness; Millie had always been a straight to the point type girl. She was who she was and let nothing layer her core.

To Meryl's surprise the man smiled. "Anything for the winner. Is that everything?"

"Well…" Millie thought.

"Yes?" He asked eagerly.

"I think that's everything for now, unless you have some donuts for Vash."

"I'll get back to you on that." He said, still smiling ridiculously big like a teenager who had just gotten his braces off.

They stared at each other.

"I think that's all, except could you show us to our rooms?" Millie said.

"Why of course!" He began to lead the way again while Vash and Meryl exchanged another look of concern. "It's just down the hall."

When they arrived the red-headed owner unlocked the door and showed them inside. The best word to describe the room was "perfect". Everything was well kept and furnished. The bed was made to perfection, definitely a place to lay a tired boy and head. To Meryl's delight, the bath tub was very suitable for a relaxing bubble bath.

"I just want to do nothing. Think about nothing. Nothing!" Meryl fell back onto the bed. The layers of blankets sunk under her weight, leaving her barely visible in the fluffy mass.

"But what about work?" Millie asked her partner.

"Millie, what work? The society is being relocated and we haven't been directed to do anymore reports and I don't care!" she said, staring up at the ceiling. She sighed, content. "I love lotteries."

Vash sensed someone enter the room. He turned to see a young girl with honey brown braids. She had big blue eyes, she looked about ten, and she was wearing denim overalls with a red t-shirt underneath.

"Tony, did you find her?" She asked with a sugary-frosted voice.

_Tony_. At least they had a name now.

"Molly," the owner replied.

She smiled.

"That's her," he pointed to Millie.

"Millie," Molly chirped. "Millie!"

Millie stopped mid-conversation with Meryl and turned to the girl.

"Do you know who this is?"

"The owner."

"His name is Tony Harper."

"Hello." Millie nodded to the red-haired man.

Molly continued. "He wanted to have lunch with you," she explained simply.

Tony's face began to match the color of his hair.

Meryl sat up, abruptly.

"Molly, I don't know- what-what-what are-" Tony stammered.

"Would you?" Molly stared intently.

"What would we eat?" Millie asked. "Oh…but I have to help keep the nurses busy while Knives works on Clint-"

Meryl stood up abruptly. "He's a doctor," she lied. "We didn't want to have to pay the nurses so he's looking at our other friend." Millie was just too honest, Meryl thought.

"Oh, well, we can take care of that… but you probably want to get settled in. Maybe another day then? Or for dinner? We'll plan on that. Goodbye, Millie!" Molly grabbed Tony's hand and pulled him out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Meryl studied Vash. His eyes were glazed over in thought. "Vash?" She asked.

He was pulled out of his reverie.

"What was it?" She asked cautiously. She didn't expect to receive an answer; often times Vash quietly kept information to himself. Of course Meryl knew he did so to keep many out of danger, but once in a while she wished he would share his troubles so she could help take some of it. Nowadays she found herself wondering if he just did it out of habit.

"Vash?"

"That girl…"

Meryl studied him. Yes, she had felt something odd, but couldn't put her finger on it.

"She never blinked."

Blinking was nature, something one does without even thinking, like breathing. Molly didn't blink. This was very conspicuous since Vash had pointed it out. Whenever Meryl spotted the girl (who was always at Tony's side), she noticed her large eyes, and her perfect neatness. Watching her, made Meryl feel oddly uncomfortable, she didn't seem real, like she was programmed to be perfect.


	19. Spaces

"I brought you a snack," Vash called through the medical room door.

Knives opened it and let him inside.

Vash scanned the area. The trash was overflowing and vials occupied every counter. Clint was on the table, lying on his stomach in his boxers. His sunglasses were gone and his dark-ringed eyes stared up at Vash.

Vash presented them a muffin in each hand.

Knives took both of them. "Thanks," he answered in his happier tone.

"One of them is for Clint."

"He can't eat. Nothing stays down, but I'll be sure to let him have the calories." Knives took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. "I'm starting to feel almost feminine that way, like a mother. It's really annoying."

Vash could tell Knives had been keeping up with Clint's troubles by the frailty in his body. Having experienced the same sensation, Vash offered to take the role again.

"Want me to transfer energy?"

Chewing on a piece of muffin, Knives shook his head. "I just need to eat more."

Careful, Vash went to Clint's side and crouched down to his level, staring into his weary blank eyes. "Hey." Vash started. His stomach turned into a slight knot at the sight of Clint's skin and face. He looked gaunt, pale, and half-alive; his cheek bones were more noticeable. "I'm sorry you have to go through this, hang in there."

"I'm surprised you let me do this," Knives said. "Everyone is so afraid of me."

Although Vash could feel Knives' hard eyes on him, he kept his eyes on Clint. At the moment it was completely irrelevant whether or not he feared his brother. Vash needed Knives, he needed him for Clint.

Knives tossed the paper wrap that had been around the muffin near the trash, specks of muffin still attached.

"Afraid of my intelligence, knowledge. It's my knowledge that sparks fear of plants. It could be you doing this," he nodded to Clint. "What good does fear do you, Vash?"

Clint finally closed his eyes, but Vash continued to stare at him.

"Some fear is common sense, and if you have no fear, you have no hope."

"But what about your fear?" Knives asked, at Clint's side now, staring down at Vash. "The fear of what you are? Is it common sense to dodge it? Is it fair to Clint? Is it fair to Meryl?" Knives asked. He knew Vash's lines of thinking, and he brought them up to provoke his brother into his unwanted thoughts.

Knives had no right to say such things, not after he had ordered Meryl to her death. Suddenly Vash felt a twinge of anger and thought of confronting his brother, but he remained silent, still staring at Clint.

In return his brother picked up a fair sized stack of papers off of the nearest counter. "Clint didn't know any of this," Knives acknowledged, "which tells me you probably don't know much either…_or_ you never took the initiative of teaching him anything about himself. I'm surprised he's not angered to silence with you," Knives gained a harsh tone. "I laugh now. I really _could_ have killed you, had I known you were so afraid of plants."

At this Vash looked up into his brother's cold eyes. Ever since Vash had seen Knives' haunting angel form, he had wondered why Knives' had never used it in their last battle. Now he knew he would have it answered.

"But I had no idea…" Knives' voice died and he looked down.

Vash stared at him silently.

Feeling his eyes, Knives looked back up and stared into them. He let out a peculiar sigh, catching Vash's inquisitive expression. "And it appears you have no idea about something else." He frowned.

For some reason Vash felt unable to express his question of _why_, but could only stare at Knives silently and expectantly. He knew Knives understood his question without a thought.

"We're both fast learners," Knives reminded. "You learn faster by watching. If you had seen me in my angel form, I would have thought you would understand how to accomplish it. I didn't want you in angel form, because I…" he struggled for words. "I wouldn't stand very high when put next to you."

….

Arms full of snack, Millie teetered down the hall. She was on her way to visit Clint and Knives, and thought she could be helpful by bringing them some treats.

"Millie."

"Oh, hello, Molly." Millie smiled at the girl.

Molly began to walk along side her. "It's been a few days…" She started. "I thought it would be a good time to ask if you would have dinner with Tony. So would it?"

"Are you coming too?" Millie asked.

She giggled. "No Millie, it's a date."

A date. She hadn't been on a date since before she met Wolfwood, yet remarkably the Priest had been her closest partner in a relationship. The wake of their relationship was still going on. In truth, she felt little desire to accompany another man out in a possible romantic atmosphere. Yet as she thought deeply of Wolfwood, she felt that somewhere inside the deceased Priest, he would truly wish for her to find someone else- to live. Maybe this date could bring her back into life…

"Yes, tell him I will go," Millie answered.

"Excellent," Molly sang. "I'll get back to him to set up a time. Have a good day!"

As Molly departed, Millie was left to her silent thoughts. She wondered if she had made the right choice and thought about Meryl and Charles. Meryl had begun to date him to help let go of Vash, but then fell in love with the man, while she was still so deeply connected with the outlaw.

Millie bumped into someone and the snacks dropped to the floor. She hadn't been walking very fast, but the encounter was such one that it pulled her things and the other man's papers to the ground.

"Oops, sorry, Millie. I wasn't paying attention." Vash apologized.

They both worked to gather their items.

"It's alright, I wasn't either."

"Is that all for Knives and Clint?" Vash asked, staring at all the food.

"I thought they would get hungry in there. Have you seen them?"

"Just now. Clint fell asleep and he was too tired to talk, but Knives said he could use more food." Vash explained. Once he made sure Millie had all the food in her arms, he scrambled for all his papers, struggling to erase Knives' last words from his mind.

He began to match and even out the papers, hitting the edges of the stack against the ground to even them into one conformed bunch.

Millie watched him. "Have you told Meryl yet?" She asked.

"Huh? Oh, no…I don't know…" He answered, remembering he had confided so much of his feelings to Millie.

They stood up.

"I…" Vash thought, feeling overly exposed. "I don't know if I should… it doesn't feel right if she's engaged." He answered. He imagined Meryl telling Charles she was leaving for another man when Charles had done nothing wrong. Anger would surely rise between Vash and Charles, not to mention the cruelty and wrongness of it. But to Vash's surprise, a tiny sliver of him somehow liked the idea.

"Well, everything will turn out," Millie promised simply. "Well, I'll see you later, Vash."

"…Bye…"

On the way back to his room, Vash passed Molly, Tony, and Salmon sandwiches without a glance. If someone had asked him where he could find some food or the owner of the Sandsteamer, he would have been unable to answer. His mind seemed to be whirling and because of this he bumped into another person- another insurance girl. Once again his papers tumbled to the ground.

"Vash, are you alright?" Meryl asked before he could bend down. "You seem a little distant. I called your name twice."

"Sorry, I was thinking…"

"Evidently," Meryl gave him an inquisitive half smile.

Vash cleared his throat and began picking up the papers again. Meryl went down to help him.

They both reached for the same sheet, and then both pulled away. Vash's rough hand looked awful next to Meryl's soft delicate one. Realizing how out of place it was, he redirected his hand to another sheet while Meryl went back for his former target.

When the sheet was in her hands, she paused. Scanning the content she realized it was some science notes scribbled in Knives' handwriting; neat and concise with large words and sleek letters.

She wanted to resist asking Vash about it, but failed to do so.

"What is this?"

Vash slowly reached for the last sheet, delaying an answer until it was too late.

"Knives wrote this," Meryl observed.

Encountering anxiety again, Vash stood up. A part of him felt as if she was reading his diary, but he was too adult to throw a fit and steal the sheet from her hands.

The words were mostly science terms that she knew quite a bit of, but hadn't heard since school. She didn't understand most of it. Her eyes found Vash and she realized she had gone too far with her curiosity. This must be either about Clint or plants in general. She prayed events like this would be avoided in the future. She didn't want it to become a habit.

She handed it to Vash, who was grateful to have it back.

Meryl could think of nothing to say.

"Thank you," Vash told her.

For a moment, Meryl remembered how alone Vash was; how he must have so much worry caught in the middle. And she thought how she would quite like to get into some of the spaces between them, to help this outlaw in front of her. She would never force her way into this space, Vash never did with her. Many of these spaces she knew were left for her own protection- untouched under dangerous conditions.

"I was going to find an employee to get more towels for my room, but we could do something today," she offered.

"Yeah, okay."

His tone bothered Meryl, he was preoccupied and troubled.

Vash found his key and opened his room. He hesitated, and then closed the door.

When inside, he put the stack of papers on the dresser, praying they would receive dust.

…

When Millie's date came to her door, she wasn't nervous, but apparently he was. Tony stumbled over everything from stairs to words. He was wearing his usual suit, but it reminded Millie of a façade when faced with his clumsiness.

Their date would be interesting since Millie had never been on one while on a Sandsteamer.

"I try to create the finest Friday dining for my passengers," Tony explained on the way. "Ther- there's a variety of food."

"Is there chocolate pudding at the restaurant?"

"Wha-?...yeah. Oh yeah! We serve it as a dessert."

"Dessert?"

"And and appetizers," He added and then silently cursed himself for ever forgetting Millie and her pudding.

….

Meryl sat down on the floor next to Vash. As promised they had spent the day together with Millie doing nothing of importance. And now, while Millie was on her date with Tony Harper, Vash and Meryl were resting leisurely on the balcony of the gigantic sandship as the suns began to set. Vash had his legs through the railing, swinging them back and forth towards the lowering suns like a child. Some of the attributes of Vash that Meryl quite enjoyed were the few childish acts he exercised. Maybe it was her knowledge that he had never had the opportunity to live a fulfilling childhood.

The moment of silence between them wasn't uncomfortable, but relaxing. Meryl couldn't understand why the balcony was so empty because it was on every map of the Sandsteamer. She wondered if people disliked the breeze or the constant noise of the ship crumbling the dry dirt it sailed across.

"I learned something today," Vash started. "It makes my skin crawl and I don't know why." He didn't look at her, but continued to stare at the sunset. "Something Knives said."

Vash couldn't feel it, but he sensed her grab his hand, his cold lifeless hand. Her action half startled him, but it was an old friend hold, an _it's okay, I'm here_ hold. Convincing himself it was nothing, he didn't dwell on it with his preoccupied mind.

"You know, he's right in some things," Vash started again after some time. "I am afraid of myself."

Suddenly Meryl's grip tightened. "Well of course you are!" She answered with such surety that it surprised him. "Anyone in the right mind would be."

Vash watched her now.

"He's the only other one like you, and you've watched him. He's abused you, and took everything you ever loved. Of course you're afraid, he _made_ you afraid."

Vash didn't know what to say, he had never thought of it that way.

"Did he get mad at you?" Meryl asked.

"No," he answered so quietly that it could barely be called a whisper. "Just…" a whisper now. He couldn't find the words to describe himself, but searched specifically for them until it had been quiet too long. He realized he was quivering again at the thoughts and images in his mind. The blood lurked in him and pretending that it didn't wouldn't make it disappear. What Knives said had made it worse, whether or not his brother had intended it. How was it that he could become something more horrible than what he saw in May City? That he had more power surging through him than Knives…?

"Anyone would be afraid after all that," Meryl said again. "Everyone has their choices, and you don't have to be like Knives." She paused, looking timid. "You won't ever be like Knives."

"I'm sorry… I haven't been myself today." He apologized.

"No, you just have a lot of stress."

She looked back to the sky. The clouds were turning into a light pink, leaving splashes against the ever changing blue.

"It is nice out here, isn't it?" She asked.

Vash began to swing his legs again in reply.

…

Millie tried her best to stay alert during her date. Meryl had warned her of Mr. Harper's peculiar actions, and although her date was meant to help her move on, she couldn't help but feel disappointed. Wolfwood was a wonderful man…but he was no longer an option for her. Even though the Priest had never taken her on a date, she couldn't help but compare him to this nerve-wracking man. Unlike Tony Harper, Wolfwood was a brave, and always treated her like another human being, not a goddess who would burst with ridicule any moment. Tony was trying too hard- that was evident. So Millie tried to be as polite as possible apart from her lack of joy.

Halfway through dinner Tony had not only managed to drop his knife twice, but also Millie's. Hoping a good conversation would calm his nerves, Millie asked him about Molly.

"Are you related to her?"

"No…I kind of adopted her… or so you could say."

"What happened to her parents?" She asked, taking a sip of her cool water.

"Er- I'm not sure…"

He was turning red again

"Does she go to school?"

"No, Molly isn't like other girls…" was all he said.

Millie looked for another topic of conversation when the waiter came back with a large bowl full of thick creamy pudding. Her eyes widened and her mouth began to water.

Tony watched her eagerly as his own serving of pudding was placed in front of him.

Gently, Millie placed a spoonful in her mouth and closed her eyes. Immediately the taste occupied her tongue. The pudding was the most delicious treat she had ever tasted. She forgot all about keeping a conversation until her date cleared his throat.

"Do you remember me, Millie?"

Millie swallowed her pudding and it slide smoothly into her stomach. "Yeah, you're the man that led me to my room, _and_ you own the Sandsteamer.

Tony sighed miserably. "Yeah… I am."

"What's wrong?"

"I…I went to school with you," he explained, scratching his head.

"You did?" Millie asked. Her spoon quivered over her pudding.

"Yeah…" he said with disappointment. "You let me barrow your white knight for the chess club because Douglas stole mine."

The moment entered Millie's head vaguely. Suddenly the image of a young boy much like the man in front of her, only plumper, entered her mind.

"That was mean of Douglas," Millie answered.

"You were very good at Chess."

"My brother taught me."

"Yes, Mack, every Sunday and Tuesday, then you would both do the dishes. How come you never joined the Chess club?"

"I just like to play for fun." Millie explained and joyfully took the moment to fill her mouth with more pudding.

"I thought you were going to work with animals, not conduct a Sandsteamer," Millie said curiously.

"I did, I studied cats for a while, but then I worked towards bigger things. It was hard working with cats, and I had so many it became ridiculous."

Listening, Millie scooped her spoon full of the dessert.

….

The suns were almost to the horizon, and Vash and Meryl continued to sit idly on the secluded balcony. Two or three stars had finally appeared in the sky, twinkling down on them from far away.

"Do…do you want to play _Sand and Stones_," Meryl asked.

"In the candle light?" Vash added leaving the fact Meryl didn't seem to like the game out.

"Even though we're in first class there isn't much to do, and it wasn't that bad before… except for the fact that Millie beat everyone."

"Why not?" Vash asked. He slipped his legs back through the railing, returning them to solid ground.

When they stood up it suddenly occurred to Meryl that she had been holding his hand. As she tried to grasp when her subconscious had found it a good time to do such rule breaking, she recalled not only holding it, but weaving her fingers through his, moving it, rubbing it, and squeezing it.

Terrified of her actions, she let go forcefully, leaving a space between them that was even more awkward. She felt her stomach catapult to her feet, and a sick feeling came over her like she had just eaten a bowl of worms one by one and they were still wriggling in her digestive system. Her insides were burning while her skin seemed to grow cold.

Both lost their voice, unaware of how to react or what to do. Meryl's retreat was something neither had experienced.

"I-I-I." Meryl stammered like she was back in school giving a speech to her class. "Act-ually, I need to wr-write," she felt flustered as her face grew hot, "Char-Charles."

Vash put his hands in his pockets.

And at that moment Meryl experienced two kinds of regret. One was letting go, yet she would never admit to it, the other was her dishonesty towards Charles.

….

Just as Millie finished her pudding, a waiter who was looking urgent came to their table.

"Sir there's been a problem in the kitchen." The man told them, fidgeting with what looked like a chef's hat.

"What do you mean?" Tony asked.

Molly appeared at the table, her eerie eyes looked blank. "I'll handle this," she promised Tony. "Come on," She grabbed the waiter with a tight strong grip and began pulling him away.

The waiter cowered in return.

"Can't you see Mr. Harper is on a _date_?" She hissed.

By the end of the event, Millie wondered if she could even consider it a date. Tony Harper had some sort of reverent envy toward her. He was definitely too afraid to make any moves, which slightly relieved her; she realized that she wasn't quite ready to get involved with such affairs yet. When she returned to her room that evening, she pulled out the old box containing _Mr. Priest's_ old items. Once again she glanced over the knick knacks, she even skimmed through the blank diary as if hoping to find something she had missed. Consciously, she evaded the mysterious slip of paper containing Legato's signature, for whenever she saw it, it made her stomach contort in uncomfortable positions.

When Meryl entered the room minutes later, she seemed oddly flustered. Without a word to Millie, the small insurance girl ran to her suit case, ripped out a paper and pen, and sat on the bed moodily.

"Did you have a good time with Vash tonight?" Millie asked her partner.

"What's that mean?" Meryl snapped, studying Millie's face.

"Did you enjoy his company?"

Meryl lowered her eyebrows. "Just the same as any day, we're around each other all the time, what difference would it make tonight?" She sounded more defensive than was necessary.

Curious, yet quiet, Millie began to get ready for bed. And when she finally hopped in, Meryl still had written nothing on her paper.

….

Vash had told Meryl "goodnight" when they separated, but she had given him no reply. He shut his door and studied the room he had been living in. Still he wasn't used to rooming alone.

He slipped off his shoes slowly. His eyes lingered on the stack of papers. _Of course you're afraid,_ Meryl had said, _he _made_ you afraid…You don't have to be like Knives_.

With a sudden jolt of hope, he picked up the stack of papers Knives had given him before rolling into bed.

….

The next morning, Vash was inside the medical room again, Clint asleep. His eyes scanned the room and he noticed plenty of new bottles and substances out, most full of different colored liguids.

"Wow, I thought this was a doctor's room, not a scientist's- where did you get all these?" Vash asked, fingering a small bottle.

"Ever heard of Merkin Hamp? People think he's a really amazing scientist of this time- like Einstein reincarnated," Knives scoffed, clearly thinking that it was impossible for Hamp to measure up to his own knowledge. "Anyway… he's on board, has a big chemistry thing coming up. He lives too much inside his head, it was easy."

"You stole it from him?" Vash asked, somehow he still felt surprised to hear it.

"Vash, your son is in critical condition, you're the last person I want to hear criticizing me, and anyway, he had plenty more. But I am disappointed with not only you, but Meryl as well. Clint's parents should put a little more concern in him; Meryl hasn't come here once."

Vash shifted uncomfortably. He put down the bottle and checked again to make sure Clint was asleep.

"Knives…" Vash hesitated. "She told me you wanted her dead."

Knives didn't answer, but began to remove his tight white gloves.

"It is true? With Chame…?"

"Dead? I saved her life!" Knives growled with annoyance.

"But she told-"

"Yes, yes I told Chame to kill her, but if I hadn't he would have shot her dead for sure." Knives paused. "He wanted _me_… he was testing me. If I was concerned he would have murdered her to anger me, but because I didn't care, he was satisfied. What a waste it would have been to have her die after all this effort."

Vash's respect for his brother leaped. "Thank you, Knives."

"Well, now you can tell her," he growled, and tried to shrug the atmosphere in the room off.

"You should tell her," Vash said at once.

"Heh, I don't use that kind of behavior."

"You could start."

"Stop always telling me what to do!" It came out more forceful than he had intended.

The room went silent as Knives picked up a pen and began to scribble something down on paper near the cupboards.

Vash watched him, growing more confused with his brother, but yet more relaxed.

"I'll bring you some food later," Vash finally broke the silence.

"Good," was Knives' reply, yet he did not look up from the paper.

After glancing at Clint's inanimate face once more, Vash left them and began wandering aimlessly back to his room. For a moment he wondered what the girls were up to, but then he remembered Meryl's sudden departure and was indecisive on whether or not he should visit them. The thought suddenly stirred a mixture of emotion. Maybe she did like him…

Vash turned down another deserted hall and made it half way when he thought he heard a sort of quiet buzzing and maybe even footsteps behind him. Quickly, he turned around and found the unnatural little girl staring at him.

"Hello." Molly greeted him with her false sweet voice. "Lovely day today, isn't it?"

Before the words had even left her mouth, Vash spotted it. In her overalls' pocket was a hand gun, the end of it sticking out.

"A little girl like you shouldn't be carrying something like _this_." Vash reached for the gun, but she grabbed his wrist with uncanny strength; her fingers were hard and cold under the skin.

"On the contrary," her large eyes looked up at him. "It's for you Vash the Stampede."

Vash's left hand darted for her pocket, but Molly quickly grabbed that one as well. Twisting his left arm with similar strength, Vash grabbed her wrist and pushed her against the wall.

"What are you and what are you doing?" Vash asked.

"It's like an instinct," she told him smugly. "I was _made_ to destroy you- it feels so long ago that I have lost count, but cannot escape the desire I was built with."

"You're no human."

"And neither are you."

Vash's eyes glanced down his left arm, thinking of her eerie strength. "You're lost technology."

"_Lost_?" She said.

Someone had just entered the hall, but Vash was unable to see anyone other than Molly against a wall.

"What are you doing?" The words couldn't have been more hysterical as Tony rushed to them, casting Vash a very dirty look. He gasped. "What are you doing with _that_?" He asked Molly, pointing to the gun.

"This is Vash the Stampede," she told him.

Vash could tell Tony took the news just as planned. He staggered back, and looked at Vash panic-stricken.

"When I had found out he was on board, I grabbed the gun for self defense, but he tackled me, threatening me."

Vash didn't take time to argue her statement. He was the one with the marred name.

A shadow of doubt washed through Tony Harper's face. "But he's a friend of Millie's. Molly, you must be mistaken. Millie would _never_ travel with a killer. She's not that kind of person. How could you even suggest…"

Molly's grip slipped on Vash's wrist.

"I'm sorry Tony, how could I have been so confused?" She asked him, in her falsely sweet voice.

She let go of Vash and Vash felt her other arm slide through his finger tips.

Molly was leaving with Tony, but only after several steps did she whirl around, lifting the gun to Vash's head.

A gun went off, and a bullet planted itself in Molly's arm. Vash recognized the gunfire instantly; his eyes darted and found Knives down the hallway, gun drawn.

A loud buzzing sound erupted, and where blood should have been seeping out, sparks and circuits extended themselves.

Knives shot her arm again, until it was clean off, leaving wires and metal exposed.

Vash quickly picked up her gun and was determined to get more information when Knives charged into her, and knowingly planted his gun just below her shoulder, firing three bullets into her chest. Immediately the buzzing stopped and she fell, limp.

Vash watched his brother with confusion.

"Whose is she?" Knives yelled, standing up. "Yours?" He turned to Tony, who was speechless. Knives grabbed his collar. "Where did you get her?" He asked with intensity.

Vash watched Knives' angered eyes search the red-headed man.

"Where!"

Tony was obviously unable to find his voice.

"Janell!"

"Eh- it was a-a returning gift, I've had her for years… from a boy named Matt…"

Knives let go of him, struggling to refrain from abusing him.

"She's a prototype." Tony said.

"I know."

Knives walked passed Molly's remains, and headed back the direction he had come- back to the medical room.

Feeling lucky, Vash followed after him.

"What was that?" He asked his brother. "She wasn't alive, was she?"

"An android- purely electrical."

"Knives, what-"

"Stop it, Vash!" Knives growled with irritation. He had stopped walking and was facing his brother. "She's gone, stop worrying about the past. As we both know, I have more important things to do."

Vash let him go, but he couldn't shake the ideas out of his head. Knives _knew_ exactly how to stop the android. Molly was from Matthew, and Vash didn't know who Janell was. Knives was right, it was the past, but evidently the past affected the future. Vash felt a tinge of frustration. When would Knives give them the whole story? They deserved it! But once again Vash restrained from confronting his brother. He would continue to keep a strong hold on the past, as he always had.

….

Several days passed by before everyone was gathered in front of the small hospital room.

Knives pushed Clint out through the doorway. His eyes were shining with some sort of pride.

"Good as new," he announced.

Clint gave a small shy smile.

"I'm so happy you're okay!" Millie cried.

Meryl sighed in relief.

A little perturbed, Knives unloaded a stack of papers into his brother's arms. "If you care, you better read this," he suggested.

Vash's happiness seeped down to his feet. Half-bred anatomy. He had begun to read the other notes his brother had given him, but still felt uncomfortable with the situation. Even though he knew it was important for him to know such information, he was not looking forward to the quest through the problems of human half plants. Subconsciously, he heard Millie and Clint laugh.

"You'll love the rooms," Millie chirped.

"I'm taking a nice hot shower," Clint announced.

"They have baths. Meryl really enjoys them."

They walked back to their rooms, where Clint took no hesitation to jump into the shower, Vash carefully put down the stack of papers, and Knives sat stiffly on the bed.

….

Combing his hair, Clint hummed an old tune. As it echoed through the bathroom, iciness came over Vash and Knives. The feeling was still and almost sickening, for it caught them off guard. The song was a happy one, about creating a new land; the melody was pretty, but not one an average teenager would sing. When the brothers first heard it, it had been sung by a woman, and this woman was the biggest hole between them. Even years after her death, the hole had remained just as vacuous. Both brothers had made a silent vow not to touch it. Vash had resisted singing the melody due to Knives, although he had slipped a few times. But as Clint hummed, it was innocent, and neither of the brothers dared speak.

Opening the door, Vash peeked in.

"How the heck do you do your hair?" Clint asked. "It just kind of sticks up."

Vash slightly smiled, and picked up another comb. "Let me see."

When they came out of the bathroom, Knives' mouth dropped.

"Wow, all he needs is your red coat and sunglasses."

Vash and Clint's eyes both darted to the coat. "Put it on and we'll trick the girls," Vash suggested.

Clint was surprised by his father's idea, but embraced it eagerly. Vash handed him the red coat and the teenager took it carefully.

….

"Hey Millie, Meryl, open up!" Vash knocked on their door. "You've got to see this."

Meryl jumped when she saw them. "Clint?"

"It's little Vash," Millie chimed. "Wow, he looks just like you."

"Yeah…" Meryl slowly responded, personally she felt a little spooked.

"Yup, we're one in the same," Vash put his arm around Clint. "Although, he still has some growing to do."

The sleeves of the coat hung over his hands, and the neck collar drooped down.

"He looks identical," Meryl said, amazed.

'Yes,' Clint thought. 'It's obvious he's my father, it is obvious he lives in me, just as Uncle Knives had told me- the obvious.' He looked down at the red coat. He had never worn it before, but he knew very well what it was since he was a child.

"_It's a symbol," his mother had said. "For Vash, it's determination, for me, hope, and it will mean something different to you when your father goes to help someone."_

"_Do you think I'll be able to wear it?"_

"_Maybe when you're older," Meryl had answered, secretly hoping Clint could avoid putting his life on the line._

'Why is Knives so hard to understand?' Clint wondered in annoyance. 'Why does he work so hard to help my father right now, but yet he didn't even go to Vash's funeral…'

He was pulled back into reality at the sound of his name. Apparently the girls were discussing the similarities he shared with Vash.

"…And Clint has charity, just like Vash," Millie added.

He blushed. "No, I don't think-"

Millie smiled. "And he doesn't take compliments. He's too hard on himself, just like Vash."

Clint shut his mouth.

Meryl stared at Clint, and then Vash, for some reason she felt a little…sad.

Vash felt her eyes on him, he looked up at Meryl. Out of habit he expected her to divert her eyes, but for the first time, Meryl let herself stare at the outlaw.

In a short while, would she ever see Vash again?

He gave her a concerned look before she turned her eyes away. She felt sickly insecure, like when ice slips down one's throat. The cube travels quickly into the stomach, leaving the throat chill. The person begins to feel nauseated. And he/she is left wondering- 'how did that happen?'


	20. To be Split or Broken

Several weeks later, Millie and Meryl found themselves inside a tiny little house Vash was renting. Those who had lived in it previously had taken very good care of it, keeping all the walls well painted in vibrant colors. No dust could be detected, and it stayed quite cool in the hottest hours of the day.

"Knives can't stand being around so many people and has always had a strong dislike for hotels and motels because of the lack of space and privacy," Vash had explained to them when he had just finished talking with the owner. "Don't worry, it's not permanent," he added. "We did it all the time before Chame."

Meryl had remembered entering the other small house when she had just begun her investigation months ago, now she was visiting another that contained the same three beings. This house was bigger than the last, and the kitchen had plenty more room.

"We can help make lunch," Millie offered. "I noticed you had bought so many groceries- we can also help eat them." She stared inside one of the brown paper bags on the counter.

"That was-" Vash started, but Millie never got to hear what it was, because his sentence broke with a sudden gasp. A few pounds seemed to have pounced on Vash's back, accompanied with claws that dug into him. He reached for it and his fingers brushed against something soft and furry. It hissed.

Clint, who had just entered, announced, "Vash, there's a cat on your back."

"Would someone get it off?" He asked. He turned his back to the three of them, wondering how the feline had ventured inside the house. He always seemed to have an odd kind of luck with cats.

Millie, Meryl, and Clint froze.

"Please?" Vash asked. The claws seemed to be digging ever deeper into his skin.

"It's albino," Meryl answered.

"Rade," Millie said.

"I'm not touching that cat," Meryl said at once. "Millie, you get it off."

Millie stepped forward to Vash. She had to stroke the cat several times before it reluctantly went into her arms. Still petting him, she stepped away, but the moment she came too close to Meryl, Rade let out a vicious hiss.

"Keep that cat away from me," Meryl demanded.

"What's Chame's cat doing here?" Clint asked.

"Maybe he's lost," Millie suggested.

"Or here to murder us," Meryl thought.

No one had noticed Knives had entered the room until a loud bang sounded in the kitchen. Meryl's eyes tore away from the hellish cat to find Vash pinned up against the wall by his brother. Vash's eyes were wide with surprise as he looked into Knives' raging expression. Memories darted through his mind as he tried to recall a reason for the behavior. His heart skipped a beat when his mind involuntarily back tracked a few years. Knives had often attacked him when they were first reunited. But that was the old Knives, the Knives that did all in his power to corrupt man. Vash was silent. Knives' strong hands gripped him tightly, and he could feel the circulation being cut off in his right arm.

"Naive contradictory!" Knives bellowed.

His face was so close to Vash, that Vash could see the tonsils in his throat.

"It is impossible to save both. You can not save spiders and butterflies. How could I let you convince me?"

Despite her fear, Meryl refused to have such behavior. "Knives, let go of him!" She demanded.

Knives pushed a piece of paper into Vash's face. Meryl hadn't realized he had been clenching it until it was unraveled and directed to the outlaw's eyes.

"Read it!" He demanded.

Vash took it while the spirit of the room seemed to die. It was hard to believe that just moments ago they had been discussing lunch and smiling. Everyone stared at Vash's moving eyes until they came to halt and landed on Knives with concern.

"You didn't kill him?"

Vash had never wanted Knives to murder Chame, but the idea caught him completely off guard.

"How could I let you convince me?" Knives asked. For a moment they stared into one another's eyes. Knives' grip loosened. Vash tried to come up with an explanation, but all words seemed to have been startled out of him… yet maybe it was better that way, he didn't want to push Knives when he was currently at his mercy.

"Sure, Vash," Knives sneered just over a whisper. His brother had always stuck to the same thoughts and reasons. Nothing ever changed with him. How had Knives ever expected him to?

"Keep believing in it." Knives growled. "Live in your little fantasy world. You've never learned to grow up. Spiders and butterflies…" he shook his head. "They'll never coexist." His hand slipped away from Vash and snatched his black trench coat off the kitchen chair. "Did you think spiders just killed for fun?" He slipped on the coat, the rips still frayed in the back, exposing his shirt. "It's about survival, Vash!" He yelled.

Vash stared at his brother. Behind the anger, he looked almost hurt. When Knives had begun to believe in his words, Vash didn't know. They never had those conversations anymore, because half the time they had ended in violence. So instead the thoughts and the ideas and the controversy had often been swept under the rug, or restrained from ever getting too deep into conversations.

Knives disappeared out of the kitchen.

Meryl stepped towards Vash, but before she could utter any words of comfort, Vash had darted out of the kitchen, still holding the paper.

Knives was nearing the front door, and Vash was following him. As his brother exited the little house he attempted to slam the door, but Vash caught it swiftly, letting it close gently after he exited as well.

"Where are you going?" He asked, rushing after Knives. The air was cool, but he hardly noticed it as he followed in his brother's wake.

"It doesn't matter. What matters is what I am doing, and I think you know that already."

Vash increased his speed, hoping to catch up to him, but Knives began taking longer strides.

"Don't follow me Vash. Don't follow me unless you want to die."

"If you really want me dead, you would have done it by now." Vash said boldly.

"If you really loved Meryl, you would have told her by now," he responded sharply.

Vash slowed down, pondering the difference between the two situations.

"No brother, I don't want you dead, just that woman's beliefs.

"They're not Rem's, they're mine."

They had walked nearly a block now. The neighborhood looked empty, and felt oddly silent.

"The believer gets in my way," Knives snapped. "Vash, I'm asking you not to follow me. Don't push me Vash."

The gunman hesitated.

"We'll come with you. Knives- we'll help you," he insisted.

"Help me or slow me? I intend to kill Chame, do you, dear brother?"

"He doesn't need to die. We can find another way to stop this."

Knives had come to a stop at an intersection, and for a moment Vash thought he had taken his suggestion into consideration. But then the twin whirled around with his gun extended at the outlaw.

"Don't follow me, Vash. Go back to the house, go back to Meryl."

"Knives, please, let me-"

Knives pulled the trigger, the bullet flew through the air, several inches away from Vash's shoulder.

Vash stared calmly into Knives.

"I don't belong there anymore Vash, and you don't belong here, with me. So take your leave." Knives demanded. "Or must I make you? I'll slow you down Vash. I'll shoot you. I've pulled this trigger plenty of times, and I'm not afraid to do it again."

Minutes passed in silence, Knives' arm still stiff in Vash's direction. His position didn't waver. They looked as if they had been frozen- Knives serious, and Vash halcyon with his arms resting at his side.

"It's your move." Knives told him.

….

"He left?" Clint asked when Vash had returned. He was still in the kitchen with Millie and Meryl, and from Vash's point of view, they hadn't moved an inch since he had left them.

"Yeah… he did." Vash answered, clenching the note in his hand. "He never killed Chame." Even as he said it, the words sounded unrealistic. For weeks he had believed Matthew was dead, yet he was holding a note scribbled with his name. He had been here… probably when they were out getting the groceries. By the sound of it, he was up to something, and preparing for their last encounter. If Vash didn't take action, he was sure one of them would die. Logically, he thought, Chame had little power in comparison, but he sounded confident. Vash knew he had to have a plan, one he was sure would win him victory.

"He'll come back," Meryl said, moving forward to give Vash some reassurance. "He always does."

But Knives didn't. Not that night, the next, or even the two after that, and late on the fourth night a knock on the front door sounded. Vash answered it, swinging the it open with his pull.

Meryl looked up at him from his porch. She looked tired, her hair was messy and her stature shrinking. The fact that she had come here so late- or so early in the morning, alone, made Vash oddly nervous. As he was searching for words, she took the liberty of breaking the silence.

"I knew you were still awake," she said.

Vash opened the door wider and let her inside, relieving her of the cold air. Late or not, it was impolite to leave her outside

"I could tell you hadn't been sleeping," she slightly smiled. "Have you been waiting up for Knives?"

"Yeah," he answered, amazed yet again at how well she knew him.

For several second they stared and found sadness in one another's eyes. Vash stiffened uncomfortably. Finally Meryl looked away and hesitated. Vash watched her.

Why did she come here? Her eyes watered. She was a terrible person. And to put this on Vash? What would happen? Why must the two of them dodge around this?

"Meryl?" Vash inquired. He was afraid he knew why she had come, and wanted no trouble. Then another part of him disagreed, behavior was growing greyer between them and Meryl was looking like she had come for some answers. He needed to be honest, yet firm.

"Do you want to sit down?" Vash asked politely.

"No, I think I'm leaving."

"But you just got here."

"Well, that's true," she sighed. "Vash, can I talk to you about something?"

"Yes," he answered, and then led her into the family room. After pulling up a chair for her, he beckoned her to sit down.

Reluctantly she obeyed, and he took his seat across from her.

"What's up?" Vash asked. Her eyes wavered again. She was feeling insecure, he could tell. Her fingers were winding restlessly together. When she hadn't answered his question, he added, "Meryl, it's me."

"Vash," Meryl started. "Do you believe in one true love?"

"If so, I'm in trouble," he answered, trying to sound casual.

Meryl spit her next words out with agility. "Is it Vanessa?" She asked. She didn't think it was, but wished to find fault with Vash.

"Vanessa?"

He really was a dog, Meryl told herself, didn't even remember the girl. How could he forget the woman he kissed the night they double dated?

"Why did you kiss her?" She demanded.

Silence overtook the room as Meryl let her eyes stay glued onto the outlaw's. Vash shifted uncomfortably.

"I've thought about it…," he admitted with a touch of guilt in his voice. "It was wrong of me, wasn't it? She came to me first and…" He knew what to say next, but felt uncomfortable exposing so much of his inner self. However… if Meryl wanted to know the answer at a time like this, he'd have to strip himself of all emotional layers.

"I've never been with a woman I could love," he started, feeling naked before a crowd instead of fully dressed in front of Meryl. "I… have always wanted love…"

"Was it love, Vash?" Meryl asked. Her voice grew stern. "Or lust?"

"It was _for_ love."

"So, it was out of loneliness?"

"It was… to let go of love." He struggled, scratching the back of his head.

"And how does kissing her do that?" She asked.

Vash's eyes returned to Meryl's. "I wasn't letting go of Vanessa."

Meryl felt hot, and she didn't dare venture further. Her eyes turned away for a split second as she changed the subject. Then they quickly returned to him.

"I'm leaving in a few days," she said, searching for his reaction.

"I'm sorry, but if there's still business with Chame, I'm afraid I can't make it. It's almost depressing. I bet it will be a beautiful wedding."

His eyes were sad again.

"Charles is a fine man," Vash whispered.

"You will visit us, won't you? I mean, every so often."

"At this point I'm not sure it would be wise."

Meryl darted into a new subject. "Has Clint been okay?"

"He's confused with Knives."

"Is there anything I can do to help him?"

Telling her to leave Charles sounded a little harsh, so Vash chose his words carefully. "Just…be honest, he's worried about you too."

"He has too much stress."

"I think we all do right now."

"At his age he needs an outlet. Moving so much, watching adults fight and pull guns. If his mother ever finds out, I'm sure you'll hear it, Vash."

"Oh, I think she already knows."

"And what does she think?"

"She's not very happy about it." He said.

For a moment, Vash couldn't help but think how beautiful Meryl was, and he felt relieved they had become so much closer. He knew what needed to be done between them, but he couldn't escape the burning feeling in his stomach whenever he caught sight of the sparkling ring. Charles Glenning still seemed to be branded on her, and a large part of Vash still tried to stay a good distance away. He felt troubled with the situation, and hoped somehow everything would turn out right in the end.

Meryl's skin was so smooth and perfect, and her petite shape seemed to curve in all the right places. Her eyes were a smoky violet. Sometimes they made Vash feel hazy, almost like he was escaping reality. And her dark hair made her sophisticated. Even when it was messy, it looked healthy and smooth. But more than skin, she was emotionally strong, generally confident, brave and productive- features that Vash often felt he lacked. She was women to respect, and one who demanded respect… smart too. She never played with fire- straight to the point in a safe and sufficient manner- that was Meryl.

She yawned. The sound brought Vash back to reality. His eyes returned to hers. He was vulnerable this time of night- couldn't think straight.

"You should go," he advised. "There's no point in two people losing sleep."

"I wanted to see you."

"But it's so late," he noted. "You shouldn't even be on the streets this late, especially alone. You're lucky a drunk didn't find you on your way here."

"I have a gun."

"So do they," Vash answered.

"Most have passed out by now, and those still awake are so dizzy, they can't even aim." Meryl explained.

"Should I walk you back to your hotel?"

"And leave Clint alone in the middle of the night?"

Vash hesitated. There was a good chance that Clint would be just fine, but it still sounded awkward to leave him here all alone. Life was more difficult with Knives gone and this town was lax on laws.

"It's okay," she stood up. "On the way over I didn't even see anyone. I'll be careful."

"You promise you'll be safe?" Vash asked.

Meryl nodded. "Millie and I will see you tomorrow."

They both stood up. Vash led her back to the door, a small feeling of disappointment vibrating through him.

"Goodnight, Vash."

"Goodnight."

He closed the door, mingled with thoughts and emotion. He stood there blankly for a few seconds, just staring at the door frame.

"I need some sleep," he told himself out loud. He was unable to sort out his overwhelmed emotions. He often felt added stress when he lacked sleep.

….

Millie was packing a small bag when Meryl woke up the next morning. She was fully dressed and looked as if she was about to leave the hotel.

"Where are you going?" Meryl asked in a sleepy voice.

"I just caught wind that my brother is visiting a friend about 20 iles from here."

"What?" Meryl asked, still trying to escape the temptation to sleep.

"They're talking about it in town." She continued. "There's going to be a festival here next week. My brother is here to sell."

"Sell what?"

"He owns that really big glass company…"

"Geran's?" Meryl asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, that's it!"

Meryl couldn't believe what she was hearing. _Geran's_ had some of the finest glass products on Gunsmoke, blown into shape by only the best. They sold for hundreds of double dollars a piece.

"Why didn't I know this before!" Meryl demanded.

"I guess you didn't ask."

"_Geran's_ is famous, Millie!"

"Well, I know he gets really good business." Millie answered. "I'll be back tonight," she picked up her pack.

"Hey, I'm coming too!" Meryl said quickly. She jumped out of bed.

"But the bus leaves at 11:00"

"That's in 15 minutes! Why didn't you wake me up?"

"I heard you get back late last night, so I let you sleep in."

"Okay," Meryl sighed. "I'll see you tonight."

"Buh-bye!" Millie chirped, picking up her bag. She shut the hotel door behind her.

Meryl stared at the closed door, pondering.

"Millie's brother… I could have really used a discount on my wedding."

….

By the time bad news came, Millie was 7 iles away from her destination. The bus motor made a loud scraping metal sound before falling silent. The vehicle slowed to a stop.

"What's going on?" A passenger asked.

"Are we stopping for a break?" Another inquired.

"Listen up everyone," the bus driver called. "Take a break, get some fresh air, but if there's a mechanic, I could use some help."

"Is the bus dead?" A woman asked.

"Are we stuck?" Her sister wondered.

The driver waved his hands in the air. "I'll take a look at the engine, it shouldn't be long."

A few passengers groaned.

Millie followed several people outside, grasping the moment to stretch her legs and fill her lungs. She froze when something white and furry brushed against her legs. Holding her breath, she saw a shadow loom over hers. The silhouette was of a tall man. Slowly she turned around and a sharp gasp pricked the air as she came face to face with Chame.

….

Clint stood at the kitchen counter stirring chocolate syrup into his glass of milk. As the brown began to disperse into the white, Vash returned to the kitchen with Meryl, who had just arrived.

"You wouldn't believe who her brother is, Vash," she was saying.

"Who?"

"_Geran's_. Her brother owns _Geran's_! And all these years and I didn't even know!" Meryl's face looked very passionate with these words.

"_Geran's_?" Vash asked. "What is that?"

Meryl thought he was joking, until she found his confused gaze. "You're serious?" She asked.

Clint was watching them now, pouring more chocolate syrup into the glass.

"Yeah, what is it?" Vash asked.

Meryl brushed a strand of hair from her face. "The glass company?" When his gaze did not lift, she continued. "Honestly, Vash, it's famous!"

"Oh, I haven't heard of them." He answered simply.

Meryl raised an eyebrow. "How long have you been around?" She asked.

Vash gave her a small smile, the same she had seen Clint express in the past. "Meryl, I'm an outlaw, I don't really pay attention to the quality of glass. I'm too busy running around."

Meryl had taken a step closer to him.

By now Clint had squeezed so much chocolate syrup into his milk that the peak of it was poking out of the surface. He watched them curiously.

"And saving lives. You always were too much of a hero Vash. I should have known you were oblivious to glass companies. I just thought since you were so aware of donut shops, that possibly you had an idea of some of the big companies on this planet."

She had a teasing tone, one that Clint knew only too well.

"I don't know _all_ the donut shops."

Clint put down the chocolate syrup container and tried to stir the contents while he continued watching them.

"You would if you had the _time_," Meryl said, and even took the initiative of poking the outlaw.

In return, Vash just gave her another small smile, almost a smirk.

They stared at one another for a long time before Vash could find something to say.

"Where is he?"

"At a tiny little area some iles away from the city," Meryl answered, stepping away from him, and casting a glance at Clint.

In reply, Clint quickly finished stirring.

"And she won't be back until tonight?"

"No…" Meryl sighed. "I would have really liked to have gone with her."

"But if there's going to be a festival, you can see his items there." Vash suggested.

" Yeah…" She answered, purposely forgetting to mention she wouldn't be here for it.

Clint walked around Meryl, and sat down at the table with his very rich chocolate milk. He took a sip through a pinstriped straw, looking up at them.

"Vash, where are the cups?" Meryl asked. "It's starting to heat up outside, and my mouth is pretty dry from talking."

"In the cupboard by the sink," he answered.

Meryl had taken only one step before Vash halted her with his hand.

"Don't worry about it- I'll get it for you."

Clint watched Vash's finger tips brush her skin as he left to retrieve it. Then his father pulled out a glass and filled it up with clear cool water.

"Here," he handed it to her.

"Thanks." She took it gratefully and drained half of the glass.

Just when Clint thought they would be pulled back into the seriousness of their lives, Meryl grabbed another light subject to discuss. They engaged in conversation, a little over exaggerated in their actions and expressions. Clint watched them interact, sipping on his chocolate milk. Both Meryl and Vash even shared a little laugh during their discussion, and for the first time in days, Clint saw Vash quite happy. He was caught in the moment and seemed to have forgotten about all his troubles. The interaction Clint was watching was so lively, he was sweetly surprised. When Meryl subconsciously took a step closer to Vash, Clint had to suppress a smile.

Whether or not they knew of it, they were in some kind of love. Their actions had a small flirtatious side. Meryl had made her way closer to Vash, and Vash seemed to be rather keen to hear Meryl's small talk. Clint wondered how long this dream world of theirs would last… a few minutes? He thought counting on hours would be pushing it… but… if he could help keep this up maybe some progress would be made. Maybe the escape of the onslaught of their lives was just what they needed.

….

"Hello, Millie."

Millie took a step back from the gaunt man, surprised to see a shadow of disappointment cross his rigid face.

"You're afraid?" He asked. He looked sicker than ever. Millie noticed he seemed to have lost a lot of weight, his skin was suction cupped to his cheek bones, his teeth were a rotting yellow, and his eyes looked nearly hollow.

Millie wanted to ask what he was doing here, but was unable to find her voice.

"Don't worry," he grinned. "It's almost over. I have the perfect plan. It can't fail, Wolfwood will be avenged just by-"

"No," Millie interrupted. "Wolfwood doesn't want you to do this. He wouldn't…"

"He would have been a lot happier if it could have been this way from the start."

"I don't-"

"Don't you want him to be happy?" He asked her seriously.

"Please, don't kill anymore… don't kill Vash or Knives."

Once again, Millie was surprised to see his mingled expression. It fit somewhere between shock and disappointment.

"But you love Wolfwood," he said with disbelief. "Don't you?"

Chame couldn't possibly understand how three completely different people could be cared about by a single woman, but Millie had learned to love them all. Vash was always such a good man, and Wolfwood always did his best, Knives even seemed to have developed into a finer individual. They were all so different, yet she didn't think she could bear to lose either Vash or Knives.

Insecure, he said, "I thought you were on Wolfwood's side. You care about Wolfwood!"

"I care about all of them. You can care about more than one person!"

He stared at her blankly.

"You can't _just_ care about Nick." Millie tried to sound sure of herself. "What about the orphanage? You care about them, don't you?"

"Wolfwood cares about them, and Chapel, but…" he hesitated. "Maybe there was another." He whispered and touched his lips with his rough finger tips. His sleeve fell back, revealing several inches of skin. Millie noticed an odd burning shape etched into him, and with a jolt she depicted the finger marks and palm burned into shape around his wrist, like a flammable hand had grasped it. The after effects of such an attack looked painful.

"That's why I have to do this," Chame said louder. "It is for Wolfwood, Janell, the orphanage, and Chapel."

"Chapel?" Millie asked. Wasn't he the one who killed Wolfwood? That devilish Gung-ho-gun?

"It was his fault Wolfwood and I were pulled into the Gung-ho-guns, but he was a somewhat father to Wolfwood, and he cared for me."

Suddenly Millie remembered the slip of paper in the Priest's box. The eerie signature bore Legato's name.

"Wolfwood pulled in?" She asked fearfully. Wolfwood was protecting Vash. They were friends. If he was with the Gung-ho-guns, why didn't he have a demon name? And why would the Gung-ho-guns attack him too? He wasn't one. It was impossible.

"If Chapel hadn't joined Legato, they wouldn't have found Wolfwood or me."

"But Wolfwood wasn't a Gung-ho-gun," Millie started in a shaky voice.

"Not until the day he died, but he was still working for Legato under even most of the Gung-ho-guns' noses."

Millie felt horrible hot tears fill her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Chame apologized. "I thought you knew."

….

Long ago Clint had finished his chocolate milk, yet both Vash and Meryl continued through different conversations. Finally he found a break in their words and spoke up.

"Vash, are we going to go into town today… or anything?" He asked.

Meryl thought he sounded restless. She knew Vash enjoyed his leisure time, and doing nothing was just what he wanted, but Clint sounded slightly bored.

"Would you like to go into town?" Vash inquired.

"Well… it's just such a quiet day. I thought…" he looked at the table where his finger outlined the designs on the table cloth. "Maybe we could do _something_."

"What would you like to do, Clint?" Meryl asked.

"I don't know… I just get tired of just sitting here," A sudden idea entered his mind, and with his acquired acting skills, added, "I mean, it's nice with you two, but sometimes I wish there were… I don't know… more…"

Vash looked like he was trying to decipher the teenager's words when Meryl sent him a look that said _I told you so_. She had mentioned to Vash that Clint needed an outlet- he needed time with people his own age.

"Want to meet some people here?" She asked.

"Well… I don't know…"

"Vash is pretty good at getting along with kids… or at least he used to be." Meryl eyed him.

"Sure." Vash said, scratching his head. "We could play ball or something."

"That sounds like a good idea," Clint said at once.

"Alright, then, go get your shoes on." Vash answered.

Clint got up from the table and disappeared out of the room at a quick pace.

Meryl watched him leave and once he was out of earshot, turned to face Vash.

"I knew he needed an outlet, he probably needs to be home. He needs to get some emotion out." She told him.

"He can talk to me about anything," Vash answered promptly.

"It's not the same as talking to people your own age- he can relate to them."

"But Meryl, he doesn't want to talk to them. He's too shy anyway."

"Oh, and keeping him hidden away will help him get over it?" She asked.

Vash shut his mouth, Meryl was taking the idea much too serious, and the last thing he wanted to do was argue with her.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he answered, deflated.

"And you could also use some fresh air, Vash. You used to always be outside. You seem to be happier in the sunshine with life." Meryl commented.

Clint returned to the kitchen, his shoes securely on. "Let's go."

….

The idea that Nick had been working with such men, seemed to finally break into Millie's skull. Suddenly she felt empty.

"Why would he do something like that?" She asked. Her voice was thick.

Chame looked neither moved nor disgusted, but sounded rather like he was at an appointment. "It was for the orphanage," he explained, trying feebly to act what he thought was sympathetic. "When Chapel joined, Wolfwood refused. We were starving over there. You have no idea how terrible it was. Legato came when Wolfwood was weakest. Everything was useless if he couldn't care for the children, so he had to find money, and that was exactly what Legato offered him. Wolfwood would get a quarter of it if he joined, and the rest after he fulfilled his mission."

"Why are you telling me this?" Millie asked, tears still sneaking away from her eyes.

"Because you're the only woman he ever loved."

Millie swallowed, remembering the description of Vash in the Priest's box. She didn't know if she dared hear anymore.

"Don't cry, Millie. He must not have told you because he didn't want you sad. He did try to escape it. It's why I have to do this."

"Chapel killed Wolfwood!" Millie said loudly.

"Legato killed him using Chapel, by Knives' orders."

"But why would they kill him if he was on their side?" Millie asked desperately. Somewhere she knew a flaw existed.

"That is one even I'm still trying to understand." Chame pondered. "He must have gotten in the way." His grey eyes found Millie's sky blue ones.

"You still have no right to kill. I'm sure we could find donators for the orphanage. I know Vash himself would give plenty of money, and so would I. Killing will only make this worse and still that doesn't solve the problem of having no money. By killing you lower yourself to Knives' and Legato's level."

"No, I'm afraid not. They are such sly creatures, no Millie, I'm afraid they did a lot worse than that."

Rade mewed. Chame picked him up and began stroking the cat with affection.

….

Sweating and out of breath, Vash sat down on a bench. Meryl had already started her break a long time ago. Once the game of ball had taken wind, she turned into a spectator as the other teenagers and children continued playing.

Vash watched them in silence. To his sweet surprise, Clint was doing spectacular. A part of him wondered with pride if it was his father's blood shining through. Although once in a while expectations struck Clint with a sense of consciousness, at which he grew insecure and vulnerable. When this happened, he often dropped the ball and apologized timidly.

As the game wore on, Vash found his fingers gripping around his clothes tightly. The scores were so close… If Clint would stop worrying about his self image, he was likely to help win the game.

Another woman at the other end of the bench gave Vash and Meryl a small smile.

"It was nice of you to organize a game like this," she told them.

Vash reluctantly broke away from the action. The woman was plump, and her face looked pleasantly similar to one of the boys' out playing ball. She had the same nose and eyes as Kent, who Vash had noted was particularly talented at this game.

"It's not hard," Vash said. "You just need a ball and some players."

"Yes," the woman agreed. "But you make it come to life."

"I don't think-"

"He doesn't take compliments," Meryl interrupted. "But he's very good at stirring things up."

Slightly embarrassed, Vash gave the woman a small smile. For some reason he never felt like he deserved compliments.

"My son is the one with the bandana on." The woman said.

"Kent?" Meryl asked.

She nodded. "Maybe my son and your son can get together sometime."

Meryl was unable to find words as she shifted uncomfortably. Thankfully Vash stepped up to an explanation.

"Oh… Clint's not ours…well, Meryl's too young to have a child that age, and I guess you could say he's a relative of mine."

"Really?" The woman answered. "I could have sworn he was yours."

"We spend a lot of time with him," Vash said.

"So are you two thinking of having any of your own?"

Meryl felt her face grow warm with a blush, she stared at her knees as her heart pounded. Her stomach seemed to turn and she began to feel oddly ill. Somehow Vash handled the question with completely courtesy.

"Oh no, we're not-"

"How long _have_ you two been together?" The woman asked.

Right now Meryl slightly wished she could yell at the woman and stuff something down her throat to keep her from making this more difficult then it needed to be. She snuck a glance at Vash. He looked completely mild with the idea, like it was a phrase they had heard often.

"No, we're not together," he finally said.

Disappointment seemed to spring onto the woman's face. Vash and Meryl could see her surprise.

"Really? Well, it's obvious you should be." And with that she fell silent again.

Meryl stared down at her wedding ring. How could that woman tell her it was obvious, when it was so hard for Meryl to understand? How could it be obvious?

….

The hot suns bore down on Chame and Millie, as they stood next to the bus. The driver was looking under the hood, but apparently he had come to no conclusion.

"I'm tired of waiting," Chame told Millie. "I'm going to give him a hand." He handed Millie the white cat. Rade mewed as his owner ventured to the front of the bus.

"Is the engine dead?" Chame asked the driver.

"Battery is," he answered roughly.

"Hm…" Chame studied the engine. Then he put his palm over some of the mechanics. Millie had never studied cars and was unable to distinguish what was what. She watched Chame and within seconds the bus was running again.

"How did you do that?" The bus driver asked. He looked up at Chame through his big bushy eyebrows.

"Magic," he answered, and slipped the driver a sly look before departing for Millie again.

Rade purred when he returned.

"I got it to work," he gave Millie a smile, showing his yellow teeth. "People think demons are terrible- maybe they are, but I must admit, it comes in hand."

Chame was a villain, Millie thought, but he was a righteous one. She had always been told demons naturally lusted to kill, whether or not they had reason, and they also tended to be very unkind to say the least.

"How long-?" Millie asked, trying to find polite words.

"Hm? Oh, I've had it in me since before I can remember- I was always involved with the electricity. Every demon becomes one with choice. Because of Knives' all the Gung-ho-guns became demons. I'm only half, and that's why I'm still sane." He gave her another smile.

Millie's mind continued on the subject. When younger she hadn't believed in demons, but after running around with the $$60 billion outlaw, she had discovered a lot of truths she wouldn't have thought existed. After hearing and seeing the Gung-ho-guns and their abilities, she knew that they weren't quite human. The one that made her soul most restless was the demon who looked like a young innocent boy. A part of her still believed he was… somewhere in there. He must have been corrupted into that creature by Knives at a young age. Just thinking about it made her stomach twist uncomfortably. Vash had once explained to her about how each Gung-ho-gun had specific talents and abilities. The outlaw knew a lot about hushed or lost information; he probably knew more about technology that almost anyone… even with Molly he had sensed her differing behavior.

Suddenly Millie remembered the girl and Tony on the Sandsteamer. She turned back to Chame. "Did you make- do you know a man named Tony Harper?"

Chame's smile widened, nearly childish. "Of course. He finally found you?"

But Millie was not interested in Tony. "Did you make that little girl? She ran on electricity. Molly?"

"Oh," his smile faded. "No…"

"He said he got it from you."

"Yeah, my friend was the inventor. Molly was a prototype, but it was I who gave her life. Tony always felt like he was over his head, and was continuously nervous. I paid him back by giving her to him. I had no other use for her, and I didn't want Knives to get his filthy hands on her."

"Pay him back?"

"For giving me an endless supply of cats."

'That was right', Millie thought, 'Tony had mentioned his work on cats.'

The engine of the bus roared, and several cries of relief sounded through the air.

"I think we're leaving," he nodded to the vehicle. "I enjoyed chatting with you, Millie. For a moment I forgot how serious of an action I must take."

She walked with him towards the doors, and handed him the albino cat. He stared into her face, examining it.

"I see why Wolfwood loved you. They said that he would never let himself find love, you know that don't you?"

They stared for another for a moment, Millie felt her heart searing.

"You don't have to kill anyone," she said again.

"Have a good rest of the ride." He answered, and departed to the back of the bus.

Overwhelmed, Millie took her seat near the front, her head spinning.

Author's note: I had a hard time trying to decide where to split this chapter from the next, and this became the best spot. So the next chapter is a short one in comparison, but it's very important. Thanks for reading my long story.


	21. Mirror Mistake

Night had finally drifted over the city of Caliber, and Vash was thankful for a successful day with Meryl. He was also glad she had talked him into bringing them out into the sun for a game of ball. Clint seemed to be a lot happier, and even Vash felt lighter. The day had been wonderful while it had lasted. Vash had finally forgotten so much of his troubles. But now as the stars shimmered outside the living room window, he was slowly brought back to reality. As the day started coming to a close, a part of him wondered if it could have been a day wasted. Still no sign of Knives had come, and Vash was sure he wouldn't hear from his brother for a long time. He knew what needed to be done, but the idea did little to sooth his reoccurring nerves.

Meryl sat next to him on the living room couch. She too was growing tired, but felt utterly content. Staring out the window, she could see the fifth moon hanging in the air.

"When do you expect Millie to be back?" Vash asked.

"An hour or less… but she'll know I'm here."

"I need to ask her a favor…" Vash said distantly.

"A favor?"

"I feel it's coming to a close. It's too dangerous with Knives and Chame both acting like devils. I'm going to meet them in Brooklin, just like the note requested Knives do. There will be no one to fall back on while I'm there, and it would be better for both of us if Clint stays behind. There are few I trust to take care of him. Millie comes from a good family- perhaps her brother will be so kind."

"If you die, I'll never forgive you," Meryl said.

The look Vash gave her was much too serious for the comment, and caught the small insurance girl unexpected. What exactly was Vash planning to do? He had survived the thrash of Knives before, but Meryl didn't like the idea of him getting in the middle of his brother and Chame. And of course, Vash, being the hero, had already requested on going all alone.

"I'm serious! I… always worry… so you better write." She ended in a small voice.

Looking away Vash began to worry about her on top of everything else. Why must she look at him with those eyes? Even after all the time they had been apart, she was still so concerned about his well being. He wanted her to be happy.

Gently, he felt her finger tips touch his shoulder, and he looked back at her. Her eyes were concerned as they stared into his. Time elapsed, and still they stared.

Meryl's arm was moving across his upper back and she was coming closer.

They had been staring for too long, but Vash felt frozen. He was unable to move, unable to speak. He could feel her arm brushing across his back.

Still she came closer, her eyes beginning to draw shut, and Vash heard his heart pounding in his ears. His eyes fell upon her ring finger where a diamond shown beautifully, pure, and chaste. His heart pounded louder as he redirected his stare to her. Somewhere along the moment he had lost his breath. She was coming to kiss him.

Immediately he felt self conscious, unable to match her porcelain beauty. Unlike her, he was weathered, scarred, and rough. Meryl was spoken for. '_She's engaged!_' His mind told him fiercely. '_She belongs to Charles_.' Yet a large portion of him longed for the affection- she was making the move. It would only last a moment, and who would ever know?

But what if it _didn't_ last a moment? What if somehow he found himself unable to pull away? And he was lost in her arms?

His eyes darted back to the ring.

Charles would hate him forever. No. Meryl may hate him forever even though she came to him first.

But if Vash didn't kiss her, maybe she would go as far as to think he had no feelings for her. A medium must exist. Could he perhaps let her do as she pleases, yet do nothing in return? For some reason he didn't think he could handle her kissing him while he stayed stiff, the situation would be too tempting.

What if Clint had been a fluke- a serious problem that caused Meryl to forsake Charles? Clint _was_ theirs. It would be the fastest way out… No, Vash couldn't do this to them, Clint being Meryl's mistake was too disappointing. He would _not_ let Clint be a mistake.

His eyes felt heavy, she was so close that he could feel her exhaling breath on his face.

'_It could poison everything_.'

Vash clasped Meryl's shoulders in a tight grip, as if waking her from a dream. He turned his head away, unable to look her directly in the face.

Drawn to reality, Meryl opened her eyes.

"I wouldn't, if I didn't care…" Vash told her, sheepishly sneaking eye contact under her stare.

Without warning a pain erupted in Meryl's chest like her heart had been severed in two. Like the darkness outside, some kind of disappointment fell upon her. She felt heavy, like excess gravity was pressing down on her, squashing her insides.

"You're getting married. This is something I have no right to."

Meryl was stunned to silence, unable to produce an understandable strand of words. What had she just attempted? To kiss this man when she had another for a fiancé?

They stared at each other, Vash remaining stern in the face, while Meryl's expression wavered with doubt and insecurity.

Footsteps sounded. Clint had just walked in.

"Hey, Vash, could y-" He stopped mid-sentence as his eyes fell on them. Feeling suddenly awkward and out of place, he didn't know where he found the nerve to speak again. "Did I come at a bad time?" He asked.

All three of them owned a blushing expression now, frozen.

Clint had thought Meryl had left already. He was unaware that she and Vash were in the living room together. He was almost positive he had ruined an important moment by the look on their faces and frozen closeness. Unsure of what to do, he tried to repair his entrance as politely as possible.

"Excuse me, I'll ask later." He spoke. As he turned to leave, he heard Meryl stand up as well, breaking free from Vash's snug grasp. Vash felt the couch cushion rise under him. They had been so close that he had forgotten how cool the room was.

"No," she said. "I was just leaving."

She walked roughly passed a dumbfounded Clint, and departed through the front door before Vash could say anything. It shut with a profound noise, leaving another silence between the two blonds, both still blushing.

"I'm sorry," Clint answered, still feeling awkward and out of place.

Vash shook his head and stood up. The air in the room felt cold now that no one was next to him, his skin even went as far as to prick up when he had left the couch.

"It's nothing." He answered.

Clint didn't believe him, not for one second. He could hear Vash walking up behind him, but felt unable to look into the gunman's eyes.

"I didn't know-"

"Clint, you walked in on nothing," Vash said truthfully.

Clint remained silent, and both ventured into their bedrooms, still showing signs of a blush.

Sitting on his bed, Clint felt uncomfortable. A part of him wished to know exactly what had happened, but the awkwardness he felt left him relieved he hadn't. What had been attempted? Everything was going so well between them today, they even seemed to subconsciously flirt, but maybe that was the problem if Vash had set them straight. Meryl _was_ still engaged.

The sight couldn't escape his mind. He saw their individual expressions; Vash's so serious, and Meryl's so off guard. Remembering their closeness he shifted, Vash had his hands on her shoulders, gripping, and Meryl was so close to him with her arm resting on his back. Something about it made him uneasy, even though he had seen both his parents act a little more intimately. He had worked hard today trying to play some kind of cupid, but he hadn't expected to see them so close.

His eyes lingered to a blank wall. It was useless taking the time to decorate them with anything, because soon he and Vash would be leaving again.

Confused and frustrated, his hand clenched the blanket. Everything had turned into such a mess. Vash and Meryl belonged together. She really loved Vash, didn't she? Charles couldn't be near as good as Vash.

"Did I mess everything up?" He wondered.

…

Unlike Clint, Vash was already laying in his bed, hoping he would find some solitude in sleep, but he felt too ill. He was afraid he may have made a mistake, and slightly disappointed he had not gotten that moment to taste his love for Meryl. What if he had lost opportunity and Clint would be just a memory in his mind? 'Maybe Clint was mistake', he thought miserably. 'If I don't go through with it, what would happen to him?' His stomach felt poisoned. 'It's wrong. I know it's wrong. But if that's what happened… if that's the only way to ensure his safety, I would have to make her dishonest.' He sighed. 'And would it even be that easy when we're so different? I am a plant after all.'

He would never have the nerve, not tonight, not any night. Meryl didn't deserve to be manipulated in order to break her loyalty any further. Acts like that, they couldn't be true love. Tonight he had felt too self conscious, and it felt too wrong. If he was engaged to Meryl, he wouldn't be able to bear her to be taken over by another man.

Vash didn't know whether to trust facts, or to trust his own instinct. Confused, he hugged his pillow in his arms as he pondered- another one of his childish attributes. The fluffy mass helped occupy his empty arms and helped relieve the burning sensation he was feeling. 'It's wrong,' he thought again, 'it's such a negative way to bring innocent life into the world.' Resting his chin on the pillow, he felt the soft cotton condense under the fabric. 'I could have kissed her,' he thought and a sense of despair occupied his body. He had refused Meryl's love twice now.

…

"Meryl, are you alright?" Millie asked when the small insurance girl entered their hotel. She looked close to tears, but tried to hide her face as she collapsed on the nearest bed.

Millie, who had begun to write a letter to one of her family members, dropped her pen. The writing utensil clattered on the small round desk the hotel provided, and Millie patiently waited for Meryl's reply.

The silence that overcame the room was strong evidence that Meryl was _not_ alright. Frowning, Millie retreated from her letter and sat on the edge of the bed that was parallel to Meryl's.

"Is Vash alright?" Millie asked gently.

'Is Vash alright?' Meryl thought. 'The problem is that he's too _good_!' When had she stopped loving the outlaw? Truth be told, she never could pin point the moment. She knew she had found Charles well before, because it was he that numbed her Vash withdrawal with his attributes. Charles was a hero to others in his everyday life, he was unselfish, a peace maker, he loved the quiet life, and he had repented of a serious sin… attributes Vash shared also.

"Millie, I'm so confused." Her voice muffled as she talked into the pillow.

While Millie pondered over what to say next, silence drifted over them again.

"Charles is a good man," Meryl spoke. Guilt rushed over her with the phrase. 'Eh! I'm such an awful person!' She thought savagely. She could hardly stand to be with herself. Whether her eyes were open or closed, she could see Charles' face perfectly. "I don't want to hurt him!"

"There are a lot of good people in this world," Millie said.

"And I'm not one of them, Millie!" Meryl almost yelled as she turned her head to see her best friend sitting by her empathetically. Meryl felt so sick with herself. What was she doing? She sighed. "I can't even trust myself anymore." Her eyes drifted to her ring. Charles had always been honest with her, even from the very beginning. He needed her. Did Vash? 'Vash has always been alone,' she thought, 'and in the end he always will be alone, whether I love him or not.' He could never be upfront with her… but that wasn't his fault, she remembered. What was she thinking? It was safe ground with Charles, it always had been.

"I have a safe future with Charles," she said.

"Bad things happen to everyone, whether or not they are good-hearted," Millie said. "Unfortunately that's how life is, but our agency to deal with them makes our life."

'It's people like me that inflict bad things on good people,' Meryl thought savagely.

"Millie?"

"Yes?"

"I have to leave as soon as possible. When is the next bus heading east?"

"The day after tomorrow," Millie answered in a soft voice. She restrained from adding anything else.

"Millie?"

"Yes?"

"Would you please stay with Vash?" She paused. "The Insurance Society may be back in business soon, and I need you to continue our research."

"Yes, Meryl."

….

When a knock on Vash's door sounded mid afternoon the next day, he wondered if he would find Meryl behind it. But when he swung it open he found Millie, alone. Suddenly he wondered if Meryl had confided anything to her, the idea made him feel embarrassed.

"Meryl isn't feeling well," Millie told Vash as she entered the little house. "But I have some information for you. I ran into Chame yesterday, on the bus ride." She started. "He said that… he said that Wolfwood was working for Legato, but he didn't really want to," she added quickly, "Chapel pulled both him and Chame into the mess. Wolfwood was desperate because he had no money for the orphanage, and I guess Legato had promised to solve that problem. Vash, Wolfwood became a Gung-ho-gun."

Vash's mind was taking in everything she said, working fast to find the flaws. He shook his head. "No, Millie, that's not right, it can't be. I had wondered about it," Vash admitted. "He knew too much about me and about Knives, sometimes more than I even knew. And he knew the Gung-ho-guns… and Knives was always so vague and awkward to mentions of Wolfwood, but it can't be true, Millie. Why would Wolfwood protect me? Why would he-" Vash stopped mid-sentence. His eyes seemed to be focused in on his thoughts. "Oh, no." He said, halting at a realization. Suddenly he felt violated, Wolfwood had been there, right under his nose, hadn't he? His stomach turned over. Knives had been even more dreadful than Vash had thought. It did fit, didn't it?

"I know why they killed him…" he said quietly. "That's why he changed so fast… Wolfwood was supposed to kill me, but he didn't," Vash shook his head again. "He helped me instead. He got in the way. He-"

Before Vash could finish, Millie had him in her arms. He returned her hug as his mind continued on the matter.

"Oh, Vash, Wolfwood died for you."

Millie could hardly contain her emotion.

"I'm sorry, Millie," Vash answered, feeling guilty.

"No, you don't understand, I was so worried- I was beginning to fear that Wolfwood had been a horrible man… but what was I thinking? I knew he was good-hearted all along." To his surprise, Vash found joy in her voice. "It would have been awful to find out I had loved someone who had done so many terrible things without my notice. I know there is good in everyone, but I was just so worried."

Vash gave her an unsure small smile. Personally, he wouldn't have considered it to be good news.

"Oh…" Millie suddenly remembered something. Her face fell limp and then her eyes reached his with concern. "But I'm afraid that's the least of your trouble, Vash."

For a moment Vash was afraid they had reached the subject of Meryl, until Millie brought up Chame again.

"I tried to talk him out of it, Vash, but he is just too hurt. I don't think Chame is really such a horrible man, he's just trying to do what he thinks is right. He looked like he was having a really tough time, but I'm afraid he has another plan to carry out, and he was very confident in it. I tried to explain to him that it wasn't necessary to continue fighting, but he wouldn't listen."

"Do you know what it is?" Vash asked.

She shook her head.

"Why did he tell you all this?"

"He said it was because I was the only person Wolfwood ever cared for… I guess he reveres Wolfwood so much that he felt I was safe to talk to."

"He must not think we're still in contact."

"Vash," Millie spoke again, sounding unsure. "Meryl is leaving tomorrow."

The words sounded hollow. They joined his mind where so many thoughts were continuously drifting. He had to say something to her, to apologize and make all his intentions clear.

….

Early that night, Vash found himself in front of Meryl's hotel door. He didn't know how to approach the situation, or what to say. If he explained Clint to Meryl, surely that would win her over, but he was doubtful and uncomfortable with such an advance.

Vash gripped the room key in his sweating palm. Millie was with Clint, and she had given the key to him, confident Meryl wouldn't open the door for him if he knocked. Her comment had discouraged Vash. Meryl didn't want to see him, and he was just going to walk in uninvited. He shifted uneasily, staring at the chipping paint on the door. The darkness made it difficult to distinguish the color, but he knew it was a sandy tan. He had passed by this hotel before and knew that all the doors were a sandy light brown.

Taking a deep breath, he inserted the key into the hole. The longer he stared at chipping paint the less likely he would ever enter. Sometimes, in fearful situations, it is better not to think at all. Not to think about what could happen. Not to think about what to say. Not to think about what to do. Sometimes, in fearful situations, it is better to take life as it comes- one step at a time.

Vash removed the key. Carefully, he pushed open the door.

"Meryl?" He asked cautiously.

The room was nothing spectacular, two beds occupied most of the space, and Vash could see a door leading to the bathroom. His eyes didn't have time to take in much else because he had spotted Meryl next to the bed furthest from him, packing. Her luggage case was opened wide and she was putting away a number of items including a little notebook Vash recognized as her journal.

Nervously, Vash sat on the edge of the other bed, the mattress sank under his weight. His elbows rested on his legs as he watched her.

Meryl began to put her belongings away more violently, never giving him a glance. She nearly broke her toothbrush in half when she forced an extra pair of shoes in.

Heavy silence crashed over them, making them feel more terrible and awkward. Both were mentally confronted with thoughts of 24 hours ago when they had been sitting on Vash's couch. The outlaw had done his best to avoid the living room today, whenever he neared it he felt weight pressed down on him. But he had been running away from it for too long, and now he was here for a deathbed conversation.

Vash felt the quiet was too dense to survive much longer.

"I'm sorry about last night," he said timidly.

"Not as sorry as I am." Meryl sounded bitter, but still refused to look up at him. " '_Move on, Meryl'_ that's what you told me five years ago. '_If you truly love me, MOVE ON._' Well, Vash, I did."

Vash watched her retreat into the bathroom, collecting more items.

"I was afraid. I wanted you to be happy," he answered softly.

She returned with her arms full, but finally she looked into Vash's sober eyes.

"Was it impossible to be happy with you?"

"It was impossible to be safe."

Meryl thrust her bathroom supplies on the bed.

"I was always in danger," she said loudly, almost yelling at him. She paused for a split second and then found the courage to add more. "You were too obsessed with Rem to ever let me in!"

"You only tried to come in once, and I was afraid. I wasn't the one involved in the danger- it was too difficult with Knives."

"Are you telling me you've loved me all along?" Meryl asked, quieter.

"Meryl, I've loved you for so long."

For a moment she stared at him, at his eyes, and then she turned away and stuffed a feminine can of shaving cream into her bag.

"You've always been a terrible liar," she said harshly.

"How do you know if I'm lying?"

Meryl's hand slowly slipped away from the can, and moved to the outside of the luggage bag, her fingers hanging on to the edge while her wrist fell limp. "Your eyes," she sighed. "They didn't look like they have lately. You honestly didn't feel that way about me before. You were serious, you wanted me to leave and _move on_."

"Meryl," Vash paused. "You were crying."

She froze, remembering the terrible day. In her mind's eye, she could see Vash standing in front of her, blurred.

"You couldn't see my eyes."

She had been crying, hadn't she?

"I'm sorry I lied to you when I said I didn't feel that way… but if I had told you, you would have never left. You were strictly devoted to me. No matter what, you would always follow, whether gun point, murder, or violence. So I used your strongest quality against you. Your love for me."

All of Meryl's hurtful anger began to melt away, giving her eyes permission to water.

"You had been waiting for me to solve my life's troubles, but with Knives in my hands, I found you would have to wait even longer… I didn't know how long it would be. Please. I need you to understand that I see everyone come and go. I didn't want you to wait…" his voice softened, "because it might never happen, and I wanted you to experience a real life."

Tears began to slip down Meryl's cheeks, and her luggage bag blurred with the mixture of light. Why did he have to wait so long to tell her this?

"You didn't notice," Vash continued, "but Knives was already meddling with you and Millie. He's too sly. I wouldn't tolerate such abuse on you two… so I asked you to leave, because I cared."

Vash stood up

"I just wanted you to know the truth."

Meryl heard him leave through the door. She collapsed against the bed, knees on the carpet and arms across the bed sheet. Furiously, the tears picked up speed, and she buried her face in her arms.

Outside, Vash could hear her crying. His fingers were glued to the door knob. He had never heard her so emotionally broken. Hesitating, he wondered what to do as her sobs drifted into his ears. He couldn't take it. He never wanted Meryl sad, but yet it felt like he had broken everything and everyone he had ever touched. For some reason disaster was always in his wake. 'I just want a moment of peace', he thought, 'without having to worry about anything… She's still crying.'

Vash reopened the door carefully. He stood in the doorway, staring at Meryl huddled against the side of the bed. Unsure, he walked over to her. She still had her face buried when he neared. He pressed his hand on her shoulder, and motioned her to face him. As his eyes hit her melancholy face he grew conscious and nervous again, and for some reason he wondered what she would think of him. But he pushed his useless thoughts away and put his arms around her.

He was surprised how much she shook in his lock, and held her tighter.

"I don't even know," she sobbed with sharp breaths, "if I ever loved Charles, or if I just saw you in him instead."

Vash listened.

"At the time," she sobbed again. "It- it felt like I was whole again I-"

The sound of her trembling voice caused Vash's eyes to water. He never could take people crying.

"I thought I found you in someone else."

"Sshh," Vash hushed. "Just cry."

Her hands gripped his shirt tightly. She could smell gunpowder mingled with dust on him. Soon afterward she felt drops of water falling on her head.

Slowly, she regained her breathing as her tears turned silent.

Vash placed his head on hers.

"Sooo…" he started soothingly. "On the first evening a pebble…" A lullaby would have suited the moment better, but Vash didn't have any memorized. He did what he could to smooth the tune.

"What do I do?" Meryl asked when he had finished.

"I just want you to be happy. Do what will make you happy."

"I don't know anymore."

Vash would hold her until she stopped crying. Maybe it was something childish he did, but he had hated tears since his days with Rem. Life was too hard and no one deserved to be left alone.

"Vash," Meryl said calmly into him. "I love you."

His emotional reaction surprised himself. For a moment he felt… safe, accepted, and understood. He remembered the first time he had heard those words from her; he had asked her to stop and later to leave, but now they were alone. Everything else outside the walls of the room felt far far away.

"Meryl," he started, and began to grow nervous again. "I… I love you too." He had been almost afraid to say the words, afraid he would lose her, and now that they were out he never wanted to let her go.

Meryl's grip on his shirt loosened, and instead she placed her arms around his body. He had always loved her. Vash deserved someone there, and she wanted to be there.

"I'll come back," She promised. "Next week, I'll meet you at Mosello it's near Brooklin. I'll meet you- Millie is going with you to help you."

"I don't think I will ever stop crying." He answered and slightly smiled.

And neither did Meryl for a very long time.

….

Clint was never fond of Old Maid, and he had never played it with just one other person. Yet when he lost at chess twice, he was willing to find a new way to pass the time.

He reached for Millie's cards and frowned when he pulled the joker. As he tried to mix it in his deck (so Millie would lose sight of it), they heard the front door open. Both froze, their eyes finding one another, and then they rushed to meet Vash.

"How did it go-?" Clint's heart sank the moment he spotted the outlaw. Smeared on his shirt- across the chest- was mascara and makeup. Tears were definitely shed. He could tell Vash had shared Meryl's misery by his red eyes. He watched Vash, trying to decipher an answer from his face, and grew more nervous as time passed.

"She's coming back." A little sheepish smile slipped onto Vash's face.

Millie and Clint were silent.

Vash felt his eyes water again. They ached, and the bright light inside the house wasn't helping. His mind could hardly catch up to his emotions. He felt so different. He felt… _important_.

"What happened?" Clint finally asked.

"She's not in love with Charles." He answered.

Clint didn't understand. Why would Meryl be engaged to someone she didn't love? He didn't think this could get anymore complicated than it already was.

"I need to sit down," Vash said.

They walked into the living room, where Clint's and Millie's cards were scattered across the table. Vash sat lightly on the couch.

"She's coming back next week… for me…"

Millie departed into the kitchen. Clint could hear her filling up a glass of water.

"Why was she engaged to Charles?" Clint asked curiously.

"It's complicated… she missed me a lot when she found Charles."

Vash's reply did little to solve Clint's confusion. Before he could further interrogate his father, Millie had returned. She handed Vash the chilled drink.

"Thank you," he took it gratefully. After drinking about half the glass, he silently blushed. Meryl was engaged to Charles because she had seen Vash in him. Meryl loved him, and it was safe for her to.

"You seem a little shocked," Millie noted.

"I don't know what to think," he admitted.

Clint smiled, Vash had a long way to go, but it was sweetly appealing to see his surprise.

"I'm starting to get nervous…" He continued. After his eyes wandered to Clint, he felt oddly awake. It was suddenly too hard to sit still when his mind and heart were quickening. Putting the glass on the table, he stood up and began pacing.

Predictably, Clint watched him start to the left. He always started to the left.

"Don't worry. Meryl has liked you for a long time." Millie said reassuringly. She sensed worry in his expression.

"Exactly," Vash sighed. "I can't screw this up, but I don't know what to do," he admitted. "I've never really been involved with something like this." He glanced at Clint again.

"Just be yourself," Clint advised.

"Take it easy, Vash." Millie told him. "Sit back down, everything is fine."

"No, I can't sit down." He answered. Personally, he felt like a lot needed to be done, although he was unable to pinpoint what at the moment. "Meryl still has to break the news to Charles… she having a really hard time. I tried to calm her, but she is so worried about him."

"I will give her a hand, Vash. And don't worry. Everything will be fine." Millie promised. She forced him to a stop with a hug. "I'm happy for you, Vash. I just knew you two were meant for one another, and now I'm glad you know it too!"

"Bye Millie. I'll beat you at chess next time," Clint said.

"Bye." Millie said. She let go of Vash, and departed.

Vash stayed frozen until he heard the door shut. Then he turned to Clint urgently.

"What year were you born, Clint?" He asked and began to pace again.

"I told you, I won't tell you anything more," he answered. His eyes followed Vash's pace until he grew dizzy, and then he redirected them to the coffee table, staring at the face cards.

"I take it we settle down… am I home a lot?"

"Would you be home a lot?" Clint asked.

"I would like to be…" He answered, trying to catch a sliver of an answer on the teenager's face. "Do I work?"

"Ha!" Clint laughed. "_Do you work_?"

Eyeing him, Vash came to a stop, he definitely had a job, but he had no idea what he could possibly do being an outlaw. It would have to be something mundane, and yet it would make a difference in someone's life. That was the kind of job he would like to try.

Clint stared at Vash's expressive face. His eyebrows crinkled together in thought, his eyes darted around the room, and his mouth was a small thin line.

"Don't worry, it's a good relationship."

"Is it…?" He asked quietly.

"Well…just don't look so far ahead, you still have a while. You can ease into it." Clint advised.

"I eased into it?" Vash asked.

Clint was taken aback. "I don't know, I wasn't _there_! I just mean do whatever you're comfortable with."

Vash still obtained his worried look.

Clint gave him a sympathetic smile. "Just relax, okay?"

Relax? He couldn't relax, not now, not after the time he had just spent talking to, listening to, and _holding_ Meryl. No, all this must be a dream, one he never wanted to wake up from. Maybe someday he would finally settle down, but he shouldn't spend his thoughts on it, there was still so much that needed to be done.

* * *

Author's note: well, I hope it turned out okay, it was one heck of a chapter to maneuver. I was trying to capture the essence of Vash and Meryl without it being overly done. I worked hard to develop the relationship between them so this chapter would come across alright. Being a writer, I re-read, re-write, and re-think chapters over so much that I wonder if it even makes sense by the time I post it up. 


	22. Falter

Knives stared up at the moons and stars. Years had passed since he had been alone in the desert. All was silent and private in the soft sand. No life of any kind reached his ears except for his own breathing. In the distance he could see large hills rolling and reaching until they met with the deep sky.

Here -alone- could he be free from the facades and the idealistic humane of those around him. He could let Vash wander in his own beliefs. Evidently, that line between them would remain as long as they both lived. Knives was better off away from the enticing words of his twin.

What was he doing thinking of Vash? He shook his head. He had finished pondering on Vash days ago. He had a new strand of thought to ponder along, the boy once called Matthew. Years ago he had been so important…

….

"Brother Wolfwood!" the voice sounded childish and young, even though the owner was a preteen boy.

"Wolfwood!" He called again.

His arms were holding a newly born white fur ball. Diligently, he searched the orphanage for the Priest.

"He's outside," directed a honey haired woman when he entered the kitchen.

Matthew dashed out the door, pleased to spot Wolfwood in the sunshine.

"I did it!" Matthew cried.

Wolfwood turned toward the voice.

Matthew possessed chocolate hair and striking blue eyes- bluer than any Wolfwood had beheld. They were mystical and inviting. The boy's smooth but profound features proved that he would be very handsome in his maturing.

"Look! Look!" He held up the kitten.

"Wow, Matthew." The Priest spoke in awe. He lowered himself until he was eye-to-eye with the kitten. "He's albino."

"White fur with red eyes, a complete loss of pigment." The boy was beaming. "The professor helped me with it, we've been studying albinos."

Wolfwood stared down at the kitten. For nearly a year Matthew had found a place inside the heart of a genetic professor. Understandable, Wolfwood had thought, the boy had an odd kind of charisma and characteristics that were easy to like. He was unsure exactly how the two met. From what he understood, Matthew had helped carry several bags of groceries for the man when he expressed his interest in hereditary traits. Of course Wolfwood knew it was unnatural for any child to have such a burning interest- a passion even, but Matthew was different. He was a quick learner, and the professor welcomed him inside his home often, spending hours explaining genetics and such to the orphan. Wolfwood was sure Matthew had found a home, but when the professor never came to the orphanage, the Priest took the initiative of asking him and was surprised to be turned down.

"He's a brilliant boy," the professor said, "but there are chasms in him that can't be filled- desires and instincts that can't be removed."

Since then Wolfwood had asked the professor a number of times if his interest had changed, but still received the same answer.

"There are instincts that can't be removed…"

Whatever answer he received, he was still thankful the professor had willingly spent so much of his time educating Matthew in areas Wolfwood could not. Matthew filled a large part in Wolfwood's life, but the subject was one that the Priest tried to keep secret- even though he knew it would only be a matter of time before Matthew figured out for himself their relation.

"What's his name?" Wolfwood asked Matthew curiously.

"Rade."

"Rade? Alright, Rade then."

"Brother Wolfwood? Would you clean up the bodies?" The phrase was said simply, as if it was one heard abundantly. Matthew looked up at the Priest with his fascinating eyes.

"The bodies?" He repeated with concern.

"Rade and his father are the only ones who made it." Matthew explained casually.

"Oh…" Wolfwood's eyes moved to Rade's crimson ones. At least that meant he wouldn't have to fall in debt anymore from that cat food and kitty litter.

"Mia-yow."

Matthew looked down at the small cat. "I studied it out," he said. "They were just too weak."

That evening, after a small dinner, Wolfwood was taking out the trash. The lights from the kitchen window caressed the dirt yard until an impending shadow interrupted them.

Wolfwood put the sack in the large trash can against the side of the orphanage, and then froze. Despite the individual's mysterious behavior, Wolfwood knew immediately who the intruder was. Only years ago had he learned the same actions. Chapel knew better than to come near the orphanage, so why was he lurking about it?

"What are you doing here? I'm not joining Knives, you know that…" Wolfwood said gloomily as he turned to the Priest.

With his lingering stare, Chapel nodded. "He'll give you an offer you can't refuse." Chapel glanced at the orphanage.

"I've told you to stay away!" Wolfwood hissed.

"It's you or Matthew."

"Matthew?" Wolfwood asked in surprise.

"Don't pretend you don't know," Chapel scoffed. "Wolfwood… it's only a matter of time." He said it almost gently.

"Why are you telling me this? Did he send you to recruit me?" Wolfwood asked.

Chapel slightly smirked. "No. I just wanted to give my apprentice a heads up."

"Get out of here!" Wolfwood growled fiercely.

Chapel chuckled.

"I mean it! I don't want to see anyone who's in league with a man like Knives around this building!" He yelled.

"I'll take my leave." Chapel nodded.

"You better."

He shot Wolfwood another smirk, and swiftly departed. Protective, Wolfwood watched him until the man was out of sight. What was he talking about? He wondered. Wolfwood hadn't even met Knives, but he knew more than enough about what he did to keep him far away from the man. Chapel had pressured him hard into joining him, and Wolfwood had been subtly involved with the man's dealings unknowingly. Knives was one he refused to be involved with.

….

Wolfwood had prayed that Chapel was wrong, that his words were harsh in hopes of bringing Wolfwood in to his dirty work. But his praying was in vain. Several days later he was visited by Knives' slithering servant.

Often Wolfwood's mind subconsciously pictured villains to be physically dirty, fat, and ugly with big devilish tattoos, but this one was different. This man brought attention to the idea that one so well groomed was just as skin crawling. Legato Bluesummers was truly horrific. Always, he had given the Priest the creeps. He was slender with oddly long legs and if it hadn't been for the freakish outfit decorated with a skull, he wouldn't be odd to find in a magazine. But the strange suggestive style made him only more haunting.

Wolfwood had been out that night to find a cheap bottle of alcohol to relieve his growing stress of the growing debt. This journey was interrupted when the conspicuous servant had intercepted him.

Pleased to corner the Priest, Legato laughed in spite of himself. "Out alone?"

Wolfwood felt the creature's eyes pierce into him. The night was quiet and peaceful, and somehow Legato's serene atmosphere had disturbed it.

"I suppose it was out of character for me to half expect to see that orphan with you." Legato said in his soothing tone.

"Why do you want Matthew? He doesn't seem much use at his age."

Legato smiled. "Never underestimate age, it's rather a costly mistake." He paused and his smile faded. "In exchange for your good works… I'll give you the money for your orphanage."

"And I can trust you? No, we're just fine. Leave us alone." Wolfwood said coolly.

Legato moved his slender arm and his hand reached into his pocket. Wolfwood noted his fingers were quivering. Was Legato afraid? No, nothing could scare this man. Maybe he was itching with excitement.

When the servant pulled out nearly a hundred thousand double dollars, the thoughts were immediately driven far away from the Priest's mind.

Legato sensed the urgency in Wolfwood and he could tell the Priest was doing all possible to conceal it.

"No, we're fine," Wolfwood said again.

Legato beamed as if someone had just told him a rusty knock-knock joke. "I can give you all the money you need, I'll pay minimum for those useless children to live, as long as you do Knives' request. But when your labors are complete, I'll make you a billionaire."

Wolfwood hesitated. How could he trust him?

"I give you my word," Legato continued eerily. "Here," Wolfwood watched him find a small slip of paper from his pocket. His golden eyes returned to the Priest. "A pen?"

Surprised such a beast could ask him an everyday question, Wolfwood stayed stationary.

"Inside your coat pocket." Legato told him.

Fear got the better of Wolfwood, and after a long pause he reached for the pen.

"Thank you," Legato calmly grasped it. "I have no use for money, except to recruit you. And I have no trouble getting my hands on more."

"What would I have to do?" Wolfwood asked, trying to ignore the reoccurring images of how Legato had gained such money.

"Whatever Knives or I tell you." Legato answered. He pulled several bills from the stack he held and placed it in Wolfwood's palm. Then he stared at the Priest expectantly.

Funny, that a rectangle of paper held so much value, Wolfwood thought. The money would pay for food, daily needs, and maybe even help bring him out of debt. What skin-crawling jobs would he have to perform? He knew Knives was one not to get involved with, but what good was an orphanage if he didn't have any money to support the children? They could starve to death, the building could be taken out of his hands, and each child would have to suffer because he was unable to support them.

As if he had already grasped Wolfwood's decision, Legato put the remaining bundle of money back in his pocket. There, it would be saved for the Priest until he went through with orders.

"I'll do it," Wolfwood said, his stomach feeling empty.

Legato put his hand out towards the Priest, and reluctantly, Wolfwood shook it.

"My word," Legato said, and handed him the piece of paper.

Half disappointed, Wolfwood read it.

_Solemnly sworn, Legato Bluesummers._

He looked up at the twisted serene face; the skin was soft- uncomfortably perfect. Yet his golden eyes were the substance that Wolfwood already felt he was unable to escape from. They seemed to rest inside the Priest's body, deeper than skin, like he had just been branded with the unknown. He felt ill beyond words.

"You start tomorrow."

….

The jobs were small at first, but they felt tedious and devilish. With each task Wolfwood felt further away from his home, distant in mind and dirty in hands. Careful, he tried to shake it off.

Silence overtook the table one evening. All the children were in bed. Wolfwood ate in company with Lauvie, the older woman who had once found Wolfwood a "remarkable young man" who had the "kind of ambition needed to create an orphanage". Because of her, Wolfwood was able to get this place up and going.

Sandra, a young teenager with blue hair, was very fond of the Priest and had snuck in to join them for their late dinner.

"Wolfwood…" She bravely broke the silence. "What happened to your head?"

A bandage was wrapped securely around his forehead like a bandana, and a shadow of blood could be seen behind the first layer. This was the most profound characteristic the Priest possessed, but only a portion of his new features. His eyes were tired and darkened, his skin had grown ripe under the suns' glare, he had several scrapes, and a pack of cigarettes fitted comfortably into his pocket.

"Rough week," he answered.

"Everyone missed you when you were gone," Sandra said.

"What did you do?"

"Matthew got more cats from Tony, and John finally learned how to ride a bike. Oh, and I found a coin and bought a chocolate bar."

Wolfwood slightly smiled. "Don't worry about me Sandra, I'm just tired."

"Some kids said you weren't coming back…"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yeah." She smiled.

Silence returned, and she watched him eat the remaining of his supper. He moved stiffly, as if it pained him, and looked more lifeless than she remembered. Privately she began to wonder about his new job.

….

Matthew clasped onto the Priest's legs. Rade, the albino cat, wobbled on the boy's head. "Brother Wolfwood! Don't leave _again_!"

Wolfwood looked down at Matthew. He had been on break for nearly a month, and though he wished he could stay, the idea was impossible. He had already seen the benefits of his endeavors, and now he knew he was in too deep to refuse when summoned.

"I'll be back," he promised.

"Grrr-! I want you to play with me!" Matthew whined.

Wolfwood struggled to step out of his grip.

"Matthew, I have to go!"

Lauvie stepped forward and wrenched the orphan away.

"Wolfwood!" He cried.

"I promise, I'll be back."

Then he proceeded to disappear through the front door.

The designated area for his meeting was several iles from December. On most occasions, Legato had taken the initiative to find Wolfwood on his own terms. But this time it was the Priest's responsibility to meet him. Because of the lack of money, Wolfwood used his own feet as means of transportation. The journey would take a few hours, so he made sure to leave the orphanage early with plenty of water.

He walked through the edge of the city and then into the sandy desert. A usual occurrence began to occupy his stomach as he fell further away from the civilization. Along the lines of his jobs, he had learned to push self disappointment away from his consciousness. He had no room for it in his corrupted life. That's how life was here on Gunsmoke. You take what you can, and do what you need to in order to survive. As he had worked on maintaining the orphanage, he had learned that the majority of mankind was as selfless as the land was green. Somewhere along the lines, men had forgotten to give to others just for the sake of it, and instead they found the need to run from life. Withering away their life with booze, gambling, and artificial women; running away from their life in a moment of bliss, and ignoring the growing waste of this land. People themselves had withered away to nothing at all, with nothing to live for and nothing for potential.

Wherever one stood, the rest was down hill. What self respect one had, was how much more one could give in search for a selfish haven, or a dollar for alcohol.

Little love was in the world, and those who had it dared not let the green bloom.

What Wolfwood did have, what love he had, what self respect he had, and what hope he had, was only the currency he had left to trade for money. Soon all of it would wither away to be as desolate as the ground under his feet.

Wolfwood could see someone in the distance, and confusion and darkness seemed to mingle over what was left of his soul. The person before him had a powerful stature with platinum blond hair and piercing hawk-like eyes.

The Priest felt his heart speed up. He knew the one before him was Knives. Not because of his hair, glowering eyes, or height, for he had never seen nor heard him described by physical appearance, but because his feet were stationary on a patch of the only green Wolfwood had ever seen in the wild. Like soft fur, the green geoplant sprouted from the dry dirt, upsetting the landscape of dry nothingness. No human was capable of creating that in this desert, and a small portion of Wolfwood understood why Knives was revered as some kind of god. Yet the majority of him felt disturbed, as if the creature before him was more devil than angel- less human and even less of a god.

At first Wolfwood had considered asking where Legato was, but thought better of it when Knives' eyes rested on his.

"I am here to give you your next assignment."

His voice was surprisingly smooth, yet eerie.

"I would not waste my time if it was not important. Now listen, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, you must follow my orders, if you receive any instruction that would interfere with it, you will ignore that portion- for the time being."

Immediately the Priest decided he would agree to the terms. Knives' wrath was one he hoped to never witness.

"Vash the Stampede."

"Wh-what?" Wolfwood stammered.

"You are going to find him." Knives shared, holding out a sheet of ordinary paper.

Cautious, Wolfwood reached for it, daring not to touch Knives' hand.

He scanned it. It was a physical description which awed the Priest. No one had ever been so clear on the appearance of the legendary gunman. Everything imaginable was written down, from the outlaw's hair and attire, to his beauty mark under his left eye. Never had Wolfwood come in contact with such a clear description, not even from the police or sheriff.

"Befriend him. Wolfwood, I want you to build a relationship with Vash the Stampede and protect him."

A stampede of thoughts rushed into Wolfwood's troubled head. He thought of leaving the orphans with a better goodbye. Then his mind jerked to the impossibility of this accomplishment. Be friends with an outlaw? That would do him in for sure. His skin crawled.

"I press the caution to rid your mind of any other descriptions given to him." Knives spoke again. "They're wrong- all of them. Keep to what I have given you, and don't believe anything more"

The fact that Vash the Stampede was a dangerous destructive outlaw seemed to have been forgotten on the list. But to Wolfwood, willing to believe Vash was anything but a mad man was like believing that Gunsmoke was once a giant sea.

Knives seemed to hear the rush of worry in Wolfwood's mind.

"Vash the Stampede is anomalous and illogical, nothing short of a fool."

Wolfwood continued to stare at the paper, making a mental note to copy it down in several places. He felt distressed, but after a self pep talk, his eyes darted back to Knives.

"How do I find him?" He asked.

"Simple, the same way any other man does." He answered.

Wolfwood was rather confident that anyone who had ever encountered such a criminal had done it by accident, and two weeks later, so had he.

He picked up news that the outlaw had gone to East town. It was the first lie the mechanic told him, the second being "this bike is fit to get you there."

It wasn't.

But Wolfwood still found him. When he felt insane with heat and half dead, a bus driver probed him. Then the events proceeded and led to the Priest drinking all of Vash the Stampede's water.

The gunman wasn't what he appeared and after several little adventures, the Priest found that Vash and the insurance girls were the most fun he had had in over a decade. Ironic enough, it was easy to be friends with this outlaw. He was really a _needle noggin_. Every so often they split their ways so Wolfwood could check on the orphanage as well as receive any new information.

Then all at once Wolfwood's life turned from enjoyable to threatening, for Legato's next assignment was the most bitter of all…

"The orphan Matthew." He pressed serenely.

"But _I'm_ in your service!" Wolfwood yelled.

"Exactly. You have sworn yourself to Master. He requests Matthew."

"What could he possibly do with him?" Wolfwood raged.

"He's half demon, and already has a place as Chame-"

"What the heck is that supposed to mean?" Wolfwood growled. "That he's supposed to become one of your cronies?!"

"Master's." Legato corrected calmly. "The Gung-ho-guns"

"But _I'm_ not even in the Gung-ho-guns!" Wolfwood yelled in disgust.

"Master has a different role for you. Chame has already expressed qualities."

"Chapel said if I joined, you wouldn't need him!"

"Chapel doesn't know."

"Leave him alone! He's just a kid!" Wolfwood yelled at him.

"He already has a leading role. He's a key factor."

"You vile-! Don't drag him into this you-!"

Wolfwood was shaking with anger, but Legato merely mocked him with a simple stare. In rage, Wolfwood swung at him, but just before his fist reached Legato's still expression it was somehow forced to a halt. Pain cracked its way into his palm. His fingernails ripped their way into his flesh without his consent, like his fist was condensing.

"I'll be back tomorrow, when you change your mind." Legato prompted. And as calm as a summer's morning, he departed.

Wolfwood roughly uncurled his bloody palm. Despair slithered in his stomach like a mad serpent. How dare they? _How dare they?_

'He's just a kid.'

The images that began to flash through his mind disturbed him. What would they do to Matthew? How could man become so twisted? Vash would never stand for it, he would die before letting them abuse and corrupt someone so innocent.

A tear slipped from his left eye.

He would too. He could not bear it.

….

"Mia-ow!"

Rade, the albino cat, greeted Wolfwood when he came home that night, a new package of cigarettes in his pocket. The feline was looking much healthier now that they could afford cat food. Rade wrapped around Wolfwood's legs, purring.

Careful, Wolfwood maneuvered around the cat to the kitchen and began to clean up his red aching hand.

"He's coming for me, isn't he?"

Wolfwood jumped and turned around to see Matthew. The orphan's gigantic blue eyes stared up at him.

Half wondering why he wasn't in bed, Wolfwood stared silent.

Matthew knelt down and picked up Rade. Stroking him, tears flooded out onto Rade's white fur.

"I'm afraid."

"How do-?"

"I know… I sensed it," Matthew whispered. "He enters my dreams at night."

Wolfwood wrapped his hand in a wet wash cloth and knelt down next to the orphan.

"Matthew, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. Don't worry, I'll protect you. Just stay here."

The child looked up at Wolfwood with his overwhelming blue eyes. "Thank you Brother Wolfwood." He whispered.

The innocent words moved the Priest again. Matthew had no idea how much truth were in those words, nor how a like they were. Saddened, the Priest hugged him.

When the orphan was safely tucked away in bed, Wolfwood retreated to his own room. With eyes full of thought, he pulled out a manila folder tucked under his mattress. Before opening it, he glanced around the room to make sure no eyes were lurking in his direction. He was alone. He opened the folder. It contained only a few sheets of paper, each embellished with inscriptions and words describing the blood flowing through Matthew's veins. Wolfwood knew he was half demon. It was evident after the test results. He had gone to a lot of work to keep the information confidential. His eyes, however, wandered to the mundane characteristics.

Pulling out another sheet of paper labeled with his name, he studied the two. Various similarities were outlined through them. When Matthew's blood had been drawn, he had originally intended to find a conclusion to his distinct nature- that he was in fact part demon. Openly, the Priest would admit he would have not taken in such a creature, what with all he knew Chapel had become involved with and all the rumors. But the surprise he found softened his heart. The mundane attributes found in Matthew were similar to his. Wolfwood did not have the pleasure of knowing anything about his biological parents, but through these blood examinations he encountered the unlikely surprise that Matthew was in fact closely related to him. Half-brother, cousin, nephew, he didn't know. Since that moment his thoughts had changed drastically. The battle against debt was even more personal than it had been before, and the curiosity of his origin grew.

Sitting on his bed, he remembered how he began a more selfless search for his ancestors, but its success began and ended with Matthew.

He sighed again.

"I fell into this trap so he wouldn't have to." He said, staring down at the sheets of paper.

….

The next day came and went, and Wolfwood dared not leave the orphanage for several more. As he sat and ate lunch with Lauvie and Sandra, he thought of what waited him for his punishment of ignoring Legato's orders. He rested in front of his food physically, but his mind was far away.

"Nick, you haven't eaten anything," Sandra pointed out. She noticed his face was very white and lacked rest. When he didn't answer, she asked, "How is work?"

Lauvie tensed and held her breath.

"It's _fine_!" He answered in a tone that couldn't be less convincing.

"Is there anything I can do?" Sandra asked.

"This tastes like crap," he pushed away his plate and stood up. He disappeared into another small room and began pacing.

"Wolfwood…" Sandra was in the door frame already.

"Leave me alone. I need to be alone." His voice shook ever so slightly and Sandra saw to her disappointment that several tears had left his face, absorbed by the dirty carpet. Never had she seen him cry before.

For a moment, Wolfwood thought she had actually obeyed his demand, but she reappeared a second later with tissues. Sandra ventured to his side.

"I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE ME ALONE! WHY DON'T YOU EVER LISTEN?"

She had never heard him yell either. The action scared her so severely, that she dropped the tissue box.

"GET THE HECK OUT!"

Finally she retreated. Wolfwood sat on the couch, feeling more alone than he had ever felt in his life time.

He didn't eat hardly anything for several days, nor did he let anyone come near him without yelling. The idea that he had been happy a little over a week ago sounded unbelievable. In one moment's time he had become cornered and a possible target, yet all he could do was sit and wait and watch for Matthew.

"Nicholas!" Lauvie said severely one evening. "You may be having a tough time, and you do own this orphanage, but I will _not_ allow you to treat the children with your mindless yelling. They're afraid to come near you now."

Wolfwood finished yet another cigarette while sitting on his usual couch. He had smoked more packs in a day than he had ever had.

"And stop smoking in here." Lauvie added. "Second hand smoke kills and it's making this whole place smell like it."

She was surprise when she didn't receive any verbal abuse; Wolfwood was silently picking up his cigarette pack and lighter. She watched him light another one and disappear outside, leaving the door open. Quickly, she cleaned up the ash left behind.

Outside, Wolfwood's cigarette pack slipped through his fingers, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

"Lauvie…" He called fearfully.

Amazed he could still speak in a whisper, Lauvie threw away the ash and went to him.

She covered her mouth in a silent gasp.

Dead. The orphans Bobby and Tisha were dead. Blood was under them, sinking into the dirt.

With some flame of hope, they both drew closer.

Lauvie cried out and stepped back. Then before she could help herself, she was crying into Wolfwood, trying to force the inhuman pictures out of her head.

"They had nothing to do with this!" Wolfwood yelled in anger. "That scum, they were only children! Take it out on me!" He yelled louder. "But they were innocent!"

Lauvie pushed him away, speechless.

"IT WAS MY FAULT! HE SHOULD HAVE KILLED ME!" Wolfwood yelled in frustration, but no words could quench his powerful emotions. He was here to protect these children, they were everything to him. "HOW DARE HE!"

"Who did this?" Lauvie asked in disbelief and horror. "Wolfwood, what _have_ you been doing when you're away? Are you working with _these people?!_"

"Don't lecture me!" He barked. "At least I'm doing something to get some money around here!"

"But this-!"

"I know what this is, don't act like you know what I should be doing. I'm a Priest dang it!"

He turned away from her and raced back inside, stopping in the door frame. When Lauvie reached him, he was crying- sobbing.

Several children were playing in the room now.

"I am a terrible man," Wolfwood cried. "We had no money. It was the right thing to do."

Lauvie could see his shoulders shaking. He looked completely defeated and broken.

The children were now aware of them.

"Wolfwood?" One spoke.

"There's no way of escaping it," he whispered to Lauvie while keeping his eyes on the children. They blurred with the wavering light in his vision.

"What's wrong?"

More orphans were entering the room curiously, staring at his wet face.

Wolfwood forced a weak painful smile, and Lauvie felt sick.

Matthew caught eye contact with the Priest and he knew right away what had happened. Alarmed, he bumped passed Wolfwood and Lauvie, running out into the sunlight. Two orphans were dead. Bobby and Tisha lay in the dirt, blood still running cool and sinking into the sand. Matthew stared down at them with his opalescent blue eyes. Not only were they dead, but the bodies were completely mangled, full of cuts and holes made by various objects, a few even looked like they were inflicted by the human hand. Blood caused the dirt to crumble. Even the dust would put up with the substance to find moisture- absorbing what it needed for whatever the cost.

"Matthew!" Lauvie cried. "Get back here!"

Ignoring her, he continued to stare at the bodies. That man in the white coat had warned him last night that something would happen if Wolfwood refused to give him up. Bobby and Tisha were hardly recognizable now. He was the only one who could stop this from happening again.

His heart burning, he broke away and ran back to Wolfwood.

"It was him," Matthew whispered, and it went quiet. "In the white coat. I don't want to go…" He whimpered. "But I will."

"No!" Wolfwood answered harshly.

"Bobby and Tisha are dead!" He screamed. "And he won't stop! Take me to them!"

"…No…"

"I can do it!" Matthew yelled. "I'll be brave! And strong!"

"Matthew… I could never-"

"More will die! Take me to them! I won't let you down Nick… I promise!"

Wolfwood could not bear to look at him. Didn't he understand? _He_ was the one who let them down. This was his entire fault. In the long run, this had little to do with Matthew… yet he was the only one who could stop it… and Wolfwood knew it.

….

Only two days later did they find themselves in the living room, awaiting Chapel. Wolfwood, carrying a backpack in his hand, stared at the front door. He had fallen. Knives and Legato had entered his life during his most desperate time, and he had done the wrong thing for the right reason- that was how life worked on Gunsmoke. Yet an outlaw with $$60 billion on his head had somehow managed to keep to his laws through all his trials. He mocked Wolfwood for doing so. Unfortunately, now that Wolfwood was in the tangled web, he was too far in to get out.

The Priest broke the uncomfortable silence.

"He'll be here soon," he told Matthew mournfully.

"I'll see you a lot though, won't I?"

"We'll find out later… You'll see Chapel a lot- he'll be the kindest out of them."

Wolfwood handed the orphan the weathered backpack. It contained only a few items, and several small holes in the thinning fabric. As Matthew grasped it, Wolfwood felt a sudden urge to vomit. What was he doing? He was sending this boy to something worse than death! The abuse and turmoil was more than he could bring himself to imagine.

"I won't blame you if you'll hate me." Wolfwood said seriously.

Matthew looked at the Priest with his gigantic blue eyes. Wolfwood was unable to meet them and looked towards the front door again. Suddenly he felt two little arms wrap around him in a hug.

Wolfwood felt his warmth. He thought of their blood and disintegrating life. And he wondered how his life had fallen so far.

When the knock on the door sounded, Matthew tore away from the Priest.

"He's here," Wolfwood said.

Sandra poked her head into the room and called back into the narrow hallway, telling all of the other orphans Matthew's new father had arrived.

"He's here!"

All at once children came dashing out of every room to wish Matthew a goodbye. The living room quickly became crowded, full of hugs, homemade cards decorated with crayons, and a bittersweet atmosphere.

"We spent a lot of time on this card to find your favorite color," one orphan said.

"We looked through a bunch of old magazines for scraps." Another added.

"Thank you," Matthew said as he received the card embellished with scraps of red paper. He tucked it away in his backpack to read later.

"Matthew, I want you to have this," an orphan named Jacob appeared at his side. He grabbed Matthew's hand and carefully put a white yo-yo in it.

Matthew looked up at him. This yo-yo was one of Jacob's most prized possessions. "I can't take this," he said quickly.

"I want you to have it."

Matthew stared down at its once glossy surface. Another sharp knock sounded and he quickly put the toy away in his bag.

"You have everything?" Wolfwood asked just over a whisper.

He checked his backpack and then near his feet. "Rade!" Matthew called, and the albino cat slinked to his side.

"Buh-bye, Matthew!" Children shouted.

Slowly he turned to the door, preparing himself to face this new stranger. Wolfwood's hand found the knob and revealed the man. He was tall and looked intimidating. Matthew was already feeling nervous as he stared at this man named Chapel, but he stepped to him. He stood just outside the door frame, inches away from Wolfwood's grasp.

"Come visit!" A child shouted.

"Bye!"

"We'll miss you," said another.

"See you!"

All the voices sounded distant in the back of Matthew's mind. His eyes were glued to this new man, studying every feature of his face.

Wolfwood and Chapel exchanged no words, but their eyes met when Chapel gripped onto Matthew's shoulder. The orphan felt his fingers dig in as if this man was afraid that Wolfwood would suddenly kidnap him and run. Matthew turned to Wolfwood. The Priest's face looked empty, like no emotion dwelled behind his actions. He stared hard into Chapel's eyes. They were exchanging a child.

Then Wolfwood's eyes found Matthew's one last time and the orphan caught the flicker of despair in his face.

Tersely, the hand on Matthew's shoulder pulled him away from his former life and Chapel's free hand found the door knob. He grasped it in a handshake, and pulled it shut.

Wolfwood stared at the closed door, his eyes wavering and glossing over with moisture. He was not the only one tear-stricken, but no one else could possibly understand what he had just committed. Sandra ventured over to him, touching his arm delicately.

"He has a new home," the Priest answered.

Reaching for a cigarette, he turned away from the girl and departed for a place to be alone.


	23. Fallen

Several minutes passed before the building was out of Matthew's view. He would do his best not to cry. He had to be strong.

The man called Chapel had clenched his hand around Matthew's wrist, leading him away.

"You will be serving Knives, but you will receive most of your instruction from Legato Bluesummers. I have been informed you will be inspected and then trained. You are part of a group known as the Gung-ho-guns, and will go by the name _Chame_."

The burst of information was overwhelming, but he did not dare ask questions.

His new home was far away. He and Chapel endured two Sandsteamer rides and a backpacking into the middle of the desert. Finally, feeling a little more comfortable with Chapel, he dared ask why the location was so desolate.

"Our master Knives keeps his distance from the subordinate. You should feel honored to be this close."

"What do you mean?"

"No one here lives out there in the ordinary world with unintelligent humans."

"Isn't Wolfwood involved?"

"He's an outside source, none of the Gung-ho-guns- but you and me- know much about him. And no one knows the instruction he receives, because he receives them in private."

"What…is… my job?" Matthew inquired.

"I don't know, but I do know it must be important, and that Knives feels you have a lot of…" he paused, "potential."

"Is Knives nice?" Matthew asked.

"Compared to his goals, that's irrelevant," Chapel answered.

Matthew didn't know what "irrelevant" meant, but he felt he had already asked a lot of questions. The rest of the journey was silent.

By the end of the day, Matthew realized that Chapel didn't look quite so scary to him any more. Upon his arrival, he had been poked and prodded for what seemed like hours. He was very tired. After recounting all the faces he had seen, he concluded that Legato was the most disturbing person he had encountered. For some unknown reason, he wad extremely easy for Matthew to sense, like how humans can smell a skunk for iles.

He was the only child at his new dark home, but several adults came and went. A lady with dark long hair had told him there was a very young boy called Zauzie, but that she could hardly call him a boy anymore.

His stomach still feeling upset with his new surroundings and his body sore, he slowly found his new bed. His room was tiny. Once he was in his bed, he realized that the graying mattress claimed most of the area. The room was clean, but exceptionally dim. The lack of light in both his room and nearly all others he had visited, made elongated shadows on the walls that resembled smudges of dirt.

Chapel had been with him everywhere, all day. His cold eyes watched the boy's weight cause a slight bend in the mattress. The Priest hadn't officially entered the room. Instead, he stood serenely in the doorway.

"Am I going to see Knives?" Matthew asked him.

"I believe tomorrow." He answered. "You're very special."

"Is it something I should look forward to?" The orphan inquired.

"Yes. It is an honor."

Matthew pulled the blanket up around himself. "Chapel, are you really going to be my dad?" He asked.

"I'll be with you a lot, but I'd hardly call it a father relationship."

"Is this group… do we do scary things?"

"Whether it's scary or not depends on whether you're prepared or not."

"Oh."

"Now go to sleep." Chapel commanded, and shut his door.

Matthew felt unable to fall asleep despite his aching eyes. His room was uncomfortable, and for the first time he could remember, he would be alone in it. The sheets on top of him were scratchy and irritated his skin. He lay awake for hours.

….

Some sort of power seemed to surround Knives, Matthew decided the next morning. The way he glided exercised some sort of authority, making the orphan nervous. Chapel stood stiffly next to him until Knives directed him otherwise.

"Chapel, you're excused."

"Sir," he answered and Matthew watched him leave, his heart sinking. His eyes stayed glued to the man until he was out of sight. The Priest hadn't given the orphan a second glance.

Unlike most rooms Matthew had entered, the one he currently occupied was full of light. Blinding white light revealed every crevasse and every object.

He was afraid to even look at the man before him, but he had to be strong. His hands clenched to fists and he stood straight up, limbs stiff.

Knives' lips twisted into an ominous smile.

Matthew felt too fearful to look at him. Nervous, he diverted his eyes. He barely heard Knives' footsteps as the being glided closer to him. Matthew's heart picked up speed, but he remained still. Knives' warm hands found his jaw line and forced their blue eyes to make contact.

Matthew felt his breath stop as Knives studied him. The Plant moved one hand from Matthew's jaw and grabbed the boy's wrist, looking over his arm. Although he was still young, he had potential. He would be perfect. His demon side could spark, it had electricity, yes, Knives could sense it. He was clever and a fast learner.

"Chame."

As Knives said his new name, Matthew felt a sudden jolt of some force through his arm. He looked to his limb, but it remained still. A distinct feeling told the orphan that his man was not quite human

Knives' hands drifted away and he turned to a table that seemed to be stationed spontaneously in the white room. Matthew watched him pick up a knife and a cup.

"Hold this," Knives told Matthew. He handed him the clear cup.

Knives lowered his stature so Matthew could see his forearms and hands. With one fast jerk, Knives cut into his arm. Blood seeping out, Knives held his arm over the cup. Matthew heard and watched the blood hit the bottom of it, fast at first, but then it slowed with a rhythm. When a considerable amount occupied the container, Knives stood up and wiped his cut clean with a white cloth.

"You're superb with genetics," he said. "I want you to study it."

Chame nodded. "Y-Yes."

"What was that?"

"Yes, sir." He answered firmly, and then began to back away.

"Don't forget your equipment. You don't know how to study without it." Knives nodded to the table.

Feeling embarrassed, Chame hurried to the table. He hadn't even notice the set of supplies there.

Knives watched him readjust his arms in hopes to carry the items.

Right before Matthew left he heard Knives say //Don't waste my blood. I'll call for the results later.//

Matthew paused. He heard it… but… not with his ears it was in his head? Matthew looked at Knives. The being was still staring at him. After debating whether or not to answer verbally, he left in silence.

…

When Matthew saw Chapel again, he was carrying a metal cage full of rats. As he entered the orphan's room unexpectedly, he put the vermin down on the tattered night stand.

At once Rade appeared and began lurking close to the rodents.

"Kill them fast." Chapel ordered.

Chame hesitated. "How?"

"I think you know." Chapel answered.

Matthew stared at the animals and slowly raised his hand on the cage. After giving it a spark of energy, the rats squirmed uncomfortably.

"Put it in stronger." Chapel encouraged.

But Chame didn't know how. The rats were only twitching with irritation.

Forcefully, Chapel threw his arm around Matthew's stomach and another around the boy's wrist. Matthew was caught off guard, and teetered for a moment in fear.

"Put your hand on the cage," Chapel told him. "Just one."

Matthew touched the cage and almost instantly some sort of a jolt rushed through him. Power overcame him and he felt suddenly awake and alive. He had never felt so much strength in his being.

Just as fast as this power came, the rats fell limp.

Chapel let go.

Chame stared at the rats as Chapel awaited his reaction.

"Woah! That was so cool!" Chame beamed. "What did you do?" He whirled around to the Priest.

"Did you feel it? That's the power you need, but you have more. Bring them back to consciousness."

Eagerly, Matthew jammed his hand onto the metal bars. He tried to find the power, but he didn't know how.

Chapel grabbed him again and the ecstatic feeling was back in his flesh like a refreshing glass of water.

The rats jerked and slowly came to the present. They squirmed about, squeaking at high pitches

"If you wait too long, you can't do it- they will become completely lifeless." Chapel explained and let go of him again. "You can practice, but I have business to attend to."

Chame stared at the rats, unable to even glance a goodbye at the Priest. Somehow he had controlled life. This power enabled him to not only take life, but grant it as well.

….

When Chame encountered Knives for the second time, he carefully recounted all he had found in the blood of his master. The genetics were quite different from humans, and he presented what he hoped was accurate information. He explained his finding in minimal speech and said nothing he was insecure about.

"That's very good…" Knives answered once Chame had finished. "I only half expected you to get them all right…"

Matthew watched him. His master was pleased, if not thrilled.

"And does my genetic makeup remind you of anything?"

Chame's eyes glossed over as he thought. Several minutes passed and then he returned to Knives. "Attributes react the same as plants."

The orphan spotted a shadow of a smile on Knives' stiff lips.

"You're excused."

"Yes sir."

After a curt nod, he departed the white room.

….

Chame had reached the age of 14 when he first met Janell. The young woman had become a guinea pig of Knives a little over a year ago, but Chame had never heard of her until they were standing face to face. Although they were close in age, Chame had had a leap in maturity since he had been involved with the Gung-ho-guns. Not only did he think on a higher level, but his handsome characteristics had enhanced as well- something Janell noticed right away. His once childish cheeks had hallowed, and his physical shape was well defined. And even though his eyes had lost their luster over life's beatings, they were still his most attractive feature.

Janell had long auburn hair and dark brown eyes. She looked much younger than Chame, and she was known for her skills with mechanics and inventions. Her real name was Janell, and apparently she wasn't yet equipped for a new one. When she had learned Chame spent time with Knives on a regular basis, she felt eager to know all about the being.

"He sounds kind of… creepy…" She said once Chame had thoroughly described his master.

"He's powerful," Chame answered. "And if you know what's good for you, you'll watch your choice of words."

"What was your real name?" Janell asked.

He wanted to hesitate, but hesitating was a waste of time. "Matthew."

"Matthew, I'm going to be living here now, maybe we could be friends."

He could hear an excess amount of hope in her voice.

"…Sure… but I need to go, I have responsibilities."

"Like what?" She asked.

"It's for no one's ears." He answered, and departed.

They did end up being friends, but apparently that wasn't good enough. Weeks later, Janell sat against the wall of Chame's room, stroking Rade nervously. Once in a while her eyes would linger on Chame, who was busy scribbling something. He was always busy studying and examining. Unlike her, he was treated with more attention and respect.

Janell's fingers glided over Rade's slick strands of hair. She hesitated and fell into deep thought for several minutes. Finally, she forced a sense of bravery and spoke to her new best friend.

"Matthew, can I ask you something?" She asked, trying to keep her voice calm and level.

"If you want." He answered simply, refusing to look up from whatever he was writing.

"Have… you ever kissed someone?"

At this Chame lowered the clip board and his large blue eyes met her brown ones. "No."

"Oh." She paused. "Neither have I."

"Hmmm…" He shrugged.

Janell shifted. It didn't matter what male she was talking to, men never took hints.

Chame waited to see if she had finished and just when he was about to continue working, she spoke again.

"Do… you want to?" She asked.

At first he found the thought humorous. What was the point anyway? It sounded like a waste of time… Why was it a big deal? From what he could recollect, it was supposed to be amazing or something…

Oops, he was hesitating and that was wrong.

"Do _you_ want to?" He asked. It sounded like a rebellious action to take and he had already hesitated.

She stared into his eyes and then nodded.

This was ridiculous. He hadn't seen a kiss since he was a small child. What was he supposed to do? Feeling silly, he faced her.

Janell came a hands length away from his face and closed her eyes. Following her, he closed his too.

They kissed.

'Eh! That was disgusting,' Chame thought when it was done. It was wet and slimy. That was the stupidest behavior ever exercised. Touching lips… nothing exciting...

Janell stared at him.

Now what? Chame wondered. This was stupid!

"Well…" Janell said slowly, feeling a little abashed. "What do you think?"

"It was okay." He lied so that they could move onto something else as soon as possible.

She looked disappointed. "Am I a bad kisser?"

'It doesn't matter if anyone is a good kisser, it's nothing to brag about,' Chame thought and began working again.

"Are you going with the Gung-ho-guns tomorrow?" He asked. "They're going to the town of Carcasses, massacring I believe."

"Isn't that sad?" Janell asked at once.

"What?" Chame inquired casually.

"Killing all those people for no reason?"

"No reason?" Chame laughed out loud. "Knives is reason."

"And what gives him the right?" She demanded.

"If you met him you would know."

"I think it's terrible." She told him and then began to quietly stroke Rade again.

Both of them went to Carcasses the next day. The Gung-ho-guns did most of the work. By mid afternoon a heap of bodies was formed. The corpses came in all ages and sizes, and by the hand of Chapel, began to burn into nothingness.

"You don't do much, do you?" Hornfreak asked Janell. "I don't think I saw you kill anyone."

Janell stared at him. She had been at a loss of words since she had seen the first child forced away from his toys. In her mind she could still see Legato's smirk as he somehow treated each person like a small puppet. Her hands felt dirty, and all sense of life had left her. Her fragile white face looked like she was capable of falling unconscious any second.

"It's her first time," Chame explained. He walked up next to Janell, eyeing her for a small moment.

"You two friends?" Hornfreak asked. "That's cute." He smirked. "She must keep you busy, I haven't seen you around much, spark boy."

"You must be to busy playing in your garage band if don't care to ever visit." Chame replied.

Hornfreak leaned into Chame. "I'd be careful with this one," he whispered. "She's trouble."

"Maybe you should be careful with Chame," Legato's voice sounded.

Hornfreak straightened and eyed the demon calmly.

"Master has high expectations for him." Legato announced.

"Apparently he's a lot more important than any of us." Zauzie said loudly to Kane.

Legato's gold eyes rested on Chame, who felt overly conscious of him. He could sense the demon like a humid stench was in the air. The sensation was so strong that Chame felt he could nearly taste him.

….

Chame jerked awake from his sleep. His room was dark. It was the middle of the night.

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

He pulled the blankets from his body and got out of bed. Drowsily, he turned the door knob.

Janell stood in the doorway, crying.

Why was she crying? Chame wondered as tears spewed themselves from her tired eyes. Crying didn't solve anything. She should have learned that by now.

Finally emotion broke out of her.

"I keep seeing them!" She cried and, unable to contain her distress, latched her arms around him.

Chame blinked. He felt her shake, and her cheeks wet his nightshirt.

"I keep having nightmares about them!" She sobbed.

"Who?" He asked.

"All the people we killed… I keeping dreaming about them."

"You seemed fine today…" he slightly laughed. "Janell, why are you crying? There's no point in that." He told her matter-of-factly. "They needed to die."

"You can't have always been this way."

"What way?" He laughed again. "You aren't making any sense."

She cried harder. Tears soaked his shirt.

Chame stood motionless.

"Tell me your life before you came here." Janell told him.

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

Chame tried to keep his laughter still. She was hopeless. "Okay, I'll tell you." He stifled a laugh before beginning. The story was fine at first. He told her all he could remember about the orphanage and his friends there. He even told her about Brother Wolfwood. As he continued his story became harder and harder to stomach. Each sentence felt heavy with burdens. Suddenly, he was unable to explain why this story bothered him, but he felt irritated.

"Knives ruined you." Janell told him.

"No… you don't understand. He made me better." Chame told her, but for once he felt unsure of himself.

"Why did you change? Why did you give in?" She asked.

"I…" he hesitated. "I had to."

She was still crying into him with her arms around him, while he stood stiff. And for some reason, Chame liked it. Janell was crying to him. She was…sad, wasn't she? He looked down into her auburn hair. He wasn't amused by her depression, now. No, he didn't like her being sad.

What was wrong with him?

"Matthew, try to be your old self."

That was a stupid action to take. Why should he regress? "Okay," he answered stiffly.

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise if you will stop crying." Why was he acting so odd? Why was she being so weird? Why did he feel… so _strange_?

…

"Matthew, what's your schedule today?" Janell asked him.

Close to a year had passed since the night Janell had cried to Chame, and the effect of that night was enthralling. Janell's presence and nature had changed Chame significantly. In a way, his body seemed to house two different people. One that thirsted after darkness and one that had a sense of pure deepness.

"I have a meeting with Knives right away," he answered. After a swift kiss on her cheek, he departed.

The orphan had two large scars on his cheek now, and his eye colors had mixed all together in a smoky blue. However, they were still sparkling.

Janell bent down and picked up Rade as Chame disappeared from view, leaving her in a silent hall.

Rade purred.

On his way to Knives, Chame steadied his thoughts. He kept them focused and long. This meeting was supposed to be very important, completely secret, and his most difficult job he had ever been given.

When Chame entered, Knives put down his glass of ice cold water. With no sign of emotion, he nodded to the orphan.

//Barely on time.//

Chame privately wondered why Knives didn't speak, he had a voice. He should use it. Over the last several months, Chame had nurtured his ability to block out both Knives and Legato. This way, he could enjoy extra time with Janell, but he wasn't going to make his ability obvious. His guard was let down the majority of the time.

"What are my orders?" Chame asked.

//It's a theory I want you to explore.//

"A theory?"

//Of course you know what I am?//

"Yes, a plant, a superior being, master."

Knives took a glance at the door before returning his eyes to Chame's

//I may have found something… a way… to entirely kill Vash.//

"How?"

Knives smiled. //I want you to study it…// He turned to the table that was seemingly place in the room spontaneously, and picked up a folder.

"You want me to find out how to kill a plant?" Chame repeated, humbly amazed.

//You're very talented with genetics… and I'm going to be rather busy with the next several months.// He carefully handed Chame the folder. His hands looked like they hadn't seen a day of hardship.

//I trust I don't need to warn you if you let it slip.//

"You have my word, I'll tell no one."

//Chame, if you succeed, you'll be awarded most respectively.//

A smile tugged at the orphan's lips.

…

Six moths passed quickly for Chame. He seemed to be spending every waking moment on devising the substance and weapon Knives had requested.

"How is your research?" Knives asked Chame late one afternoon.  
The orphan had only just entered the bright room. Knives didn't need to face him to know who had arrived.

"It's going well, but I'm having a hard time coming up with what exactly needs to be used to trigger the disease, and how to get it to attack in the right manner…among other things." He answered.

"Or have you just been too busy?" Knives turned to face him with a smirk.

Chame studied him. "This project has been my, my priority, I haven't even seen Wolfwood or Chapel because I don't have the time to spare to talk to them when they come here." He said quickly.

"That was an anxious response…" Knives stated.

Chame grew silent, he had made it too dramatic and had just presented it very poorly to his master…having such emotion was a bad move.

"I will work harder, sir," He answered humbly, in hopes of regaining Knives' pleasure. "I am sorry."

With determination, he kept his face and voice stoic.

"Maybe I should have you spend more time with Chapel…to remind you where your mind should lie; it shouldn't be wandering…into an… errant relationship, such only end as tragedies in death." Knives stared at him.

Chame felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. The room was cool, but he was suddenly burning. His insides squirmed.

"It shouldn't get too dramatic…I can't let my confidence in you falter…and spread. No…it's too much of a gamble."

Chame struggled to keep his expression placid. Involuntarily, his eyes narrowed slightly.

//You may depart.//

Stiff, the orphan turned his back to the being and forced a calm departure.

"What's wrong?" Janell asked Chame when he had returned from visiting Knives. He looked white, and distressed.

"I'm leaving," he said seriously as Rade came to greet him.

"But where are you going? Do you have another job?" She inquired.

"Knives doesn't trust me!" The words were out with more emotion than intended.

Janell was speechless for a moment. "But you're one of the only people he does trust!" She said, once her voice was found.

"He knows about us. It's only a matter of time before he kills us…kills me…" Chame sat down next to Janell on his bed.

"You said yourself there was no way of escaping Knives. What are you going to do?" Janell demanded

"I have a better chance running than staying here!" He breathed.

On the verge of tears, she looked down. "Don't leave me here alone."

"Leave you here?" Chame responded in disbelief. "Of course I won't leave you here! I'm leaving tonight, I can keep Legato and Knives away from me, but you'll have to leave tomorrow and meet me at Sand's Hollow in five days."

"Why not come with you?"

"It's too dangerous for both of us to go at once, let me test it out. We'll have a better chance, if you come with me, he'll sense you and find both of us, but if we split up, he might think you never found me. Understand?"

"I'm afraid of what will happen, Chame…" She said. For comfort, she grasped his hand.

"Well, I'm not waiting around to find out! We're getting out of here, and leaving this- this cult!" He growled, ignoring her hand for the first time in ages.

Silence then fell. Chame realized just how different he was compared to everyone but Janell around here. Unfortunately, a part of him did enjoy the taste of violence, but since he met Janell, he had learned there wasn't reason that Knives should have power over anyone. What gave him the authority? Why was Vash so important to kill? Maybe this Vash was a threat to him…Chame and Legato knew the most about Knives personally, death awaited Chame for sure because of the softness he had developed, Knives couldn't afford Chame to let all of his information leak out…especially to his enemies.

All the other Gung-ho-guns would have willingly died to be in Chame's position, but all Chame wanted to do was find a place away from here, that had a blue sky, and place where he and Janell could be. Knives was remarkable, but when he was placed between him and Janell, he would choose Janell in a blink of an eye. He loved Janell very much, and that sort of humanity wasn't allowed here.

He held her hand. "Janell, there has to be place out there away from this, a place with peaceful days- if you want- and we won't be locked up ever again."

….

Chame nearly laughed at how easy it was to leave the cult's hideout. Maybe it was because everyone seemed to admire Knives so much that it didn't really need to keep anyone in. He concentrated on keeping his mind to itself, and blocking it from all reaches of the plants that enjoyed brain-teasing so much. A security system did exist, but with his electrical gift, Chame shut it off with ease.

Slinking behind, Rade followed him. Chame had tried to get the albino cat to stay with Janell, but whenever Chame left the room, he would rapidly catch up.

With his mouth open in awe, the orphan marveled at the stars and moons. They were gorgeous. He had forgotten all about them. Then, with a quick jolt of lightning, he ran west.

…

When Chame finally crossed into Carcasses, he remembered shortly the killing he had participated in… the massacre seemed so long ago. Carcasses was still empty, and _Knives_ was painted in red. Suddenly he remembered this was the town he had heard continuous orders about…

What was it they were going to do today? He wondered and racked his mind of the murmurs and words he had caught the last several weeks. Oh yes… A smile broke into Chame's face, and made him almost childlike again. Wollfwood was meeting some of the remaining Gung-ho-guns here.

In several hours, the suns would begin to take their place behind the horizon.

Perhaps Wolfwood would still be here, and maybe he would run away too.

Making his way through the town, he listened for noises of other beings, but everything felt still and gaunt. He sauntered for several yards until he spotted the crimson puddle. The blood was fresh.

He paused. Turning the corner of a silent building, he saw it wasn't a puddle, but a trail. Surely the trail would lead the way to someone…the person could be a Gung-ho-gun, and in his current condition, he was likely to be of use to Chame. Was Knives already hunting him down?

Holding his insides still, he followed it to what looked like a church. In all reality, he had forgotten entirely the idea of religion and worship. When his eyes scanned the holy building, he smirked at his weak memory. Did not both Chapel and Wolfwood claim to be priests? He paused before opening the door, listening for another sound of life. Nothing. He wouldn't hesitate. With a thrust, he thrashed the door open, and froze.

The trail of blood stopped dead at what was truly a puddle, an enormous puddle underneath a priest.

Chame felt his heart fight against his ribs with a sudden jolt.

"Wolfwood!" Chame cried, and raced to him, his insides burning. "Wolfwood…"

In defeat, Chame fell to his knees at the corpse's side. The priest was dead. His body was cold and eerie, but yet his face was sober. He had been crying…

"Brother Wolfwood."

He was there, but it wasn't really him…he wasn't dead, that would be impossible, Wolfwood couldn't be dead. That really wasn't him there… it was someone that just looked like him…

He even thought this when he found the bullet wound…which he recognized to be the same mark Chapel's cross made.

His own mind traced up and down facts, stories, and problems.

Rade rubbed against the priest's limp body.

And then it hit him like loosing oxygen. He was _dead_. Wolfwood was dead…and Knives must have been behind it. He knew Chapel would have never willingly killed Wolfwood. Chame cursed intense under his breath. Everything in his life seemed to be undoubtedly link the Knives.

Crying was a waste of time, and a very silly thing to do. It never accomplished anything. It didn't solve anything. But Chame cried for the first time since he left the orphanage years ago. It didn't change the fact that Wolfwood was dead…but it did somewhat make him feel better, like opening a soda can, the compressed elements were relieved and able to finally sizzle out in despair.

"Mia-yow."

He stroked the albino cat.

"He's dead, Rade."

The cat cuddled up to Chame, sensing his great defeat.

"He needs to be buried. It's disrespectful to leave him here, even in a house of God."

Tears slid down his cheeks. He wouldn't ever see him again.

In a mud-puddle of despair, he scouted and dug a hole not too far away, for it was hard even for him to carry a limp body.

….

"Tell me where he is!" Knives raged. "Where is he going?"

"I don't know!" Janell pleaded desperately.

It was the first time she had actually seen Knives, and she realized at once he had some kind of authority foreign to mankind.

"How dare you do this to him? You worthless piece of life, you ruined him!"

"I-I-"

"He was perfect, until you invited such naive dreams into his mind. You corrupted him!"

Janell was breathing hard, the very look of misery edged into the wrinkles the emotion plastered over her face. She was trying her best not to cry, that would definitely trigger the end.

"You helped him escape," Knives said to her, calmer now.

"No, I-" She stammered. "I didn't mea-"

"You're lying to me," Knives said, and then erupted. "Don't lie to me!"

Janell shook in fear, and Knives smirked.

"I didn't want to have trouble with you two, Janell. Did you think you could hide it?" Knives almost laughed.

"It's not true!" She was crying now.

"Legato."

"Master," he bowed, and moved to the curled up female.

"No! It's not true!" She sobbed as Legato neared.

The shriek echoed and cut through the darkness, and then the silence filled the emptiness within, and the emptiness without.

Only minutes later did Chapel show up, to find the moment _between life and death._

"It's been a busy day," Knives expressed. "Legato, find Chame."

"Yes, Master," He answered.

…

Chame stood up from the freshly loose dirt. The glisten in his eyes disappeared, and they fell to a shade of gray.

When he reached the destination he had requested Janell meet him, he found himself alone. For several days he lay in wait, until he could delay no longer. His grey eyes turned to the shadows, and fell away to resemble bitter stone. Janell wasn't coming.

He looked out over the fiery sunset. The red suns glared heatedly in his direction. Everything burned.

Author's note: Yup, this story is still alive. This is the last chapter reflecting what happened to Chame, and it ties quite a few loose ends. On with Vash, Clint, and Meryl in the next chapter.


	24. The Eye of the Storm

Meryl's never ending ride to Taylor Valley was full of fragments of both thoughts and explanations. She had plenty of time to choose just the right words to tell Charles Glenning about her confusing emotions, but unfortunately, nothing came to mind. Every time she imagined herself coming face to face with him, she felt terrible, like someone was gutting her and having a difficult time pulling out her stomach and heart.

Even though she had been sitting for hours by the time she reached her destination, she somehow found herself wishing she could sit longer. Once she stepped off the bus, she hesitated. Then the small insurance girl picked up her luggage and darted for the nearest hotel, concluding that she wasn't yet equipped to confide in Charles.

After showering and taking a short nap, she worked on keeping herself busy with nothing important, and continued debating over what to tell Charles.

'How do you explain to someone you're engaged to that you don't really love them?' She wondered as her stomach continued to contort.

Just as she finished this thought, a knock on her door sounded.

"Meryl?"

Charles…how did he find out she was here?

"Meryl, are you in there?"

She slowly walked to the door, and with shaking hands, turned the door knob.

"Meryl!"

As Charles grasped her in a hug, guilt slithered inside Meryl's stomach.

"I've been so worried! Why didn't you come over? If my neighbor hadn't spotted you, I wouldn't have known you were here." He said. Then with a deep breath, he whispered, "I've missed you so much." He finished by gently kissing her.

Meryl looked down when he was done, unable to speak. Her whole body seemed to shake under his concerned gaze.

"What's wrong? Is Millie okay?" Charles asked, noticing Meryl's partner wasn't here.

Meryl didn't answer.

"Honey," he placed his hand on her shoulder. "What is it?"

She looked up at him. "Charles, I-" Her voice was shaking even more than her arms. Something seemed to be born into her throat as she found his eyes. "-I, I'm not feeling well."

"What happened? I've been so worried, you haven't written me for weeks and weeks and…" He paused, staring at her, his energy draining out of him; he removed his hand from her shoulder. "You haven't written me for weeks." His last words were a statement of realization.

"I'm sorry," Meryl whispered, tears intruding her vision.

Charles felt his mouth dry and a great pit form in his stomach. She hadn't written him in weeks, and suddenly, he understood.

"What happened?" He asked, but unlike when he first entered the room, it was stronger and more demanding.

A thousands words seemed to rush into Meryl's mind, but the only one that she could mutter was the name of the outlaw. "Vash."

Charles' eyes seemed to scorch her insides.

"I'm sorry, Charles, but Vash… I always…"

Nothing was coming out of her mouth right.

"You don't love me?" Charles asked.

In truth, Meryl loved and cared about him very much, or else she wouldn't have been crying. She wanted to love him with something more, but she had come to the realization, that she never did want to marry Charles. Marrying him was her fictional world of marrying Vash, never Charles. Charles came into her life when nothing mattered, when she cared scarcely about anything, and then she was automatically fond of him when she realized he had most of the same views as Vash. In her twisted imagination, he was Vash, and being with him had made all her hurt and disappointment better.

"I'm sorry…"

"That's why you didn't write. Meryl."

"Charles, I'm so sorry. I don't…I'm sorry I did this to you. You counted on _me_, and I let you down just like everyone else."

He could not hide his hurt and Meryl saw the revenge of her mistake in his diminishing stature, his tender face, and his saddening eyes.

"I'm terrible." She insisted.

"You don't love me?" He asked again, looking for the straight answer.

"No, and I understand if you hate me for as long as you live. We were going to get married, and I ruined it all for you." Tears were leaving her face, landing on the carpet of the hotel room.

Like Vash, Charles showed more compassion and consideration than she deserved. He wouldn't, however, hold her and stop her crying like Vash had- not anymore, not after what she had done to him.

"It does hurt, Meryl." He told her. "But thank you for telling me."

She wondered what he was talking about. Why was he telling her this? They were going to be married next Thursday. This conversation was death-bed repentance.

"If there is anything worse then murder and death, it is the passing away of love."

"But I do care about you!" She insisted.

"Of course you do, you care about people you don't even know. I meant in a marriage. There can't be any 'maybe's for it to work. You should have told me earlier, but it is better now then receiving a divorce later." His emerald eyes looked away from her. "It was cruel of you not to tell me earlier, but I still love you, and I want you to be happy."

A great irritation of his voice and words suddenly seized Meryl. She violently handed him the ring.

She didn't want him to love her anymore.

…

"It's about time, sleepy head!" Vash greeted Clint as he entered the kitchen. The outlaw was happily mixing some batter.

Clint replied with a yawn and planted himself on a chair at the table.

Humming an enjoyable tune, Vash put a little more flour into the batter. He paused. "Sleepyhead, you said your dad made better waffles than me. What was different about them?" Vash asked, and as he lowered the flour he accidentally knocked over the cinnamon into the batter.

"He put cinnamon in them," was Clint's reply.

Vash stared down at the dark specks in the waffle batter. "That's a twist of fate." He noted, and began to mix it in. "Would have never guessed."

He began to hum again.

Clint let out a small laugh. "You're in a good mood today. You always make waffles when you're extra happy. You liked Meryl for a long time, didn't you?"

"The festival starts today, want to go?"

"I nearly forgot! I haven't been to one in ages!" Clint answered, drowsiness leaving him. "You really want to go?" He asked curiously. "I thought we had lots to do."

"Well…I'm in too good of a mood to have life spoil it today. I think we should have some fun while my mind is off the subjects of death and poverty and has taken a short rest on love and honesty! Let's just have some fun today, okay Sleepyhead? Honestly, you're just like me, so serious minded. Someone once told me you'll grow old very fast if you're so serious all the time."

Vash began to whip up some whipping cream, concentrating hard on being happy. Pretending was a great way to do this, he had learned. But the facade generally runs out by the end of the day. He pretended Knives was on some kind of vacation, that Chame never existed, and that Meryl was not having the most excruciating time of her life breaking up with Charles, but that instead, she was thrilled and telling him in explicit detail how he(Vash) was more suited for her.

Clint was much too serious for his age, Vash decided. The teenager needed to be taught a lesson on having fun in the worst of times.

"Done!" Vash celebrated, and caked a cup of whipping on top of a waffle. He placed it in front of Clint, and then leaned in to whisper. "How many do you think you can eat?"

"How many?"

"It's on the house. We'll see who can eat the most."

"Oh really?" Clint asked, sticking his fork into the waffle. "I am a growing boy, you haven't got a chance."

"And don't forget the powdered sugar." Vash poured it on top of the whipping cream.

After devouring nearly a dozen waffles, they tied. Clint tried to force another down, but after several attempts, gave up. They cleaned the dishes, Vash still humming, and then found their way to the bazaar.

"Is Millie coming?" Clint asked.

"She's helping her brother, but she's going to meet us up for lunch on her break." Vash said. "Anything you want to do specifically?"

"What do you mean?"

"Have anything in mind?"

"How would I know, we haven't seen what's here yet."

"Point understood."

They wandered through the crowds and booths. Everyone Vash saw seemed to be enjoying life and the festival. Children were playing and parents were chatting. Finally, they came to a booth full of balloons.

"Want a balloon?" Vash asked.

"A balloon? But I'm-"

"I don't care how old you are, I never got a balloon, and I don't want you to go without either." Vash pointed out.

"But I've had lots of balloons, I mean having a father with an attitude like that, that's basically all I get for my birthday." Clint answered.

"Never had much of a birthday either…"

"Why don't you buy one for yourself?" Clint asked seriously.

Vash chewed this in his mind for a moment. "But I don't need one."

"And you think I do? You need one more than I do."

Vash hesitated.

"Fine!" Clint turned to the balloon man. "I want a balloon. Get me the biggest red one you have!" He slapped his money on the table.

"You don't need to buy me one!" Vash insisted, but it was too late, and the balloon was forced into his palm.

"You were balloon deprived as a child," Clint concluded.

Vash looked up at the big shiny balloon floating in the breeze. Its surface caught the suns' light, and even though it was fastened to his hand, it felt far away, like a forgotten memory.

"I'll pay you back. Don't waste your money on me." Vash said.

"Waste?" Clint scoffed. "Look at it, is that really a waste? Don't open that mouth to argue. Think of it this way, serving blesses two ways, the person that is served, and the person serving. Everyone is happier with service, even you know that."

Vash didn't argue. When his son knew as much as him and found a better way of saying it, he found it difficult to speak.

…

Stopping to sit on a bench and enjoy the sunshine, Vash watched people go about their everyday lives. He wondered whether he would really- one day -join the mundane duties of a simplistic lifestyle.

He watched a group of young girls with interest. One with bright blonde hair was talking animatedly to another with freckles. After his mind wandered on them and ended on Clint, he took a deep breath of air.

"Do you think she is cute?" Vash asked Clint. "You've been staring at her for a long time."

"I'm staring at her because she has my school uniform on when my school has only just begun construction this year." Clint answered automatically.

Vash nudged him. "Whatever," he sighed. Putting his hands behind his head, he sat back on the bench. He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the suns.

"No, really."

"Well, whether or not that's true, do you think she is cute?" He inquired, with a shadow of a smile.

Clint blushed. When put on the spot, he wasn't sure how to react. He wasn't one to fall fast nor had he spent as much of his time thinking about girls as the average adolescent male.

"Listen," he started, "I appreciate you like Meryl- of course- but don't try to press this excitement into my life. Trust me, I'm thrilled for you, and let's leave it at that."

"Oh, no." Vash opened his eyes and looked at Clint. "I was just noticing _she_ seems to think_ you're_ cute." His lie was a small one, he had no idea what the two girls were talking about, but he _had_ seen them glance in Clint's direction.

"How can you tell?"

"She glances over here every now and then." Vash answered simply.

"So?"

"And then she started talking to her friend with a lot of expression."

"No she didn't, I've been watching her the whole time." Clint argued at once.

"Not very closely then, huh?"

Clint rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses.

"Go talk to her."

"Why?"

"Because it's polite." Vash insisted.

"No."

"Why not?" Vash whimpered.

"I told you I'm not good at talking to people."

"Just say something. You talk to Millie." Vash pointed out, sitting up again.

"That's completely different!" Clint said.

"Go!"

"No!"

"Go over there and talk to her. You're just as good as everyone else"

Vash pushed him and before Clint knew it, he was on his feet walking over to her.

Feeling purely idiotic, he reached the girl in a dream-like state.

Vash watched intently, hoping Clint hadn't taken after his father. With Clint's timid nature Vash doubted he would receive anything similar to the slap across the face he had personally been so used to.

The girl with blonde hair turned to him after a few moments. "Do you need something?" She asked.

At this moment that Clint realized he hadn't planned anything to say. He just stared.

"Hello?" She waved her hand in front of his face while her friend gave Clint a rude look. "Are you okay?" The blonde asked.

'She's just a person,' Clint reminded himself, 'And this whole thing was probably made up.'

"Hey, um, do you go to school?" He asked

His question was a daring one, sometimes considered offensive on Gunsmoke, because many people were unable to attend any sort of school.

She blinked. "No, well…sort of…my father teaches me, he wants to open up a school…why?"

"I thought I knew you from somewhere." Clint made up casually, kicking the dirt at his feet.

"My name is Kyna Bernstien."

"No, I guess I don't," Clint shrugged, and turned away from her.

"Wait, what's you're name?" She asked curiously.

"Clint."

"You're whole name." She insisted

He hesitated.

"Vash Clint Saverem"

"Oh…" She gave him a disappointed smile. "That's too bad an outlaw stained your name, no wonder you go by your middle."

"What did she say?" Vash asked when Clint returned.

"Nothing." He answered, and slumped back down on the bench.

….

For lunch, Vash let Clint and Millie order whatever they wanted while he volunteered to pay the bill. Then, he proceeded to buy them all donuts.

By the time night fell, and the fair booths were closing, Vash and Clint took the long way home. Clint noted the uncomfortable silence that had finally befallen his young father and feared what topic of conversation it would bring.

"Did you have fun today?" Vash asked.

"Yeah, I had a lot of fun."

"Good." He answered, but it didn't sound satisfactory to Clint.

After a long pause Vash said, "You're going to stay with Millie's brother when I'm away."

Clint's anger stirred in him, but he wasn't at all surprised with Vash's decision. This sort of plan was just like his dad, and although it made perfect sense, it bothered him. He wanted to know what was out there. He wanted to _know_. But his father never told him…he had a better chance getting it out of his mother. Whatever Vash's curse and Knives' glory was, it was always quickly swept under the rug.

"I've already arranged it, and he seems like a nice guy." Vash continued.

"Hu, yeah." Oops…his words came out a cockier than intended. "Yeah, okay," Clint tried to sound slightly more lighthearted, but he had a hard time throwing away the nagging feeling of letting his only chance of more comprehension slip by.

"You don't sound too pleased…I just don't want anything-"

"-to happen to me, and it would actually help _you_ if I stayed here, more than it would help to come with you."

This plan made sense, but was also another excuse to pull away the unknown that was so close to him.

"I've heard that a few times," Clint explained. "And it's true…"

"It bothers you? But it's safe." Vash acknowledged.

"Yes…but how can you grow if you don't take risks? …It wouldn't bother me if it wasn't so secretive…if you or mom _told_ me. Everything is so quiet…I don't even really understand where I came from. Someone told me my father lives on through me. It's obvious," he scoffed, "but I realize it doesn't make sense because I don't _know_ exactly who my parents are, or where my heritage comes from, I don't know _what_ you and Meryl are or what exactly you did several years ago. I don't even know how you two met!"

Vash was watching Clint very intently now, but Clint was so absorbed in what he was trying to say, that he didn't notice.

"I've already learned so much being here…it's…outstanding…but I still don't _really_ understand half of it. Yes, it is safer if I stay here, you have a less chance of being killed…but I want to know, and I haven't been able to get a straight answer my whole life, and here I'm finally starting to learn I have to go out and get it for myself, because no one tells me anything."

Clint finally realized Vash's serene stare.

"I'm sorry…" Vash said. Then, slightly let out a painful laugh. "It's just like me isn't it?"

"How am I supposed to live if I never learned how?" Clint asked sharply.

The suns had disappeared behind the horizon. Their warmth and light were beginning to quickly leave the town. They turned down another street, growing closer to their little house.

"I never thought of it being a punishment, I just don't want anyone to get hurt. Clint, it hurts to me all around, but Knives was right when he told me it was selfish to keep such things from you. You deserve to know for knowledge, while I felt you didn't for the sake of happiness. I understand this now, and it is okay." Vash said. "But it's not the time to cloud my mind. Listen, I'll tell you when I get back."

"Really?" Clint asked with surprise.

"Yes…really. You deserve it. It won't be a comfortable conversation," Vash frowned. "In fact, there are plenty of parts I find embarrassing, but if you want to know, I'll tell you when I get back."

Clint looked at Vash. Already the gunman appeared to be moving heavier, like weight had been placed on his shoulders. Suddenly, Clint felt guilty for his harsh words, but he refused to take them back.

…

Millie and Vash sat on a bench at a bus station in Mosello. The town had grown tremendously since Vash had last visited. Brooklin, which was his next destination, wasn't far off. Because the plants had malfunctioned several years ago, Brooklin had become somewhat of a ghost town, and everyone who had lived there had moved away, most of them to Mosello. Buildings were being built on every corner, and still, the town felt over populated.

Vash and Millie had been waiting at the bus station for several minutes. Meryl was supposed to arrive soon. As large groups of people passed, Vash's mind lingered heavily on the small insurance girl's goodbye. She had been so emotional that night, and he had been so nervous. He was still nervous, even now. His palms were sweaty. Millie, on the other hand, seemed unaffected by any negative thoughts. She was wide awake, waving to a few people as they walked by, and even talking to a man who had sat down next to them on the bench.

"It has to be the next bus," Millie chirped once the man had left them.

As the next bus arrived, they searched every passenger who walked off, but none of them were the small insurance girl.

"It has to be the next bus," Millie said again.

The next bus was also full of strangers.

"It must be the next bus," she declared.

Unfortunately, this pattern lasted for hours, but the next bus wasn't ever the right one. Every bus contained at least a dozen people, none of which were Meryl.

Vash wondered if the "next bus" didn't have Meryl, because Meryl hadn't gotten on it. The next bus had no violet-heads, and the next had no insurance girls, and the one after that didn't even have a woman on it.

Vash's heavy silence grew.

"This next one will be it, Vash," Millie said, with less triumph, and more assurance.

"Millie," Vash addressed, "that was the last one. It's 8:00 pm."

"Well, it must be late," Millie insisted.

Vash showed her a slip of paper he had picked up at noon. It had all the bus schedules. He had crossed each one off until nothing was left but a lot of long black lines and a drawing he had doodled in the corner (hoping it would sooth his nerves). "She's not coming," Vash sighed.

Millie let the last drop of triumph fade away. "She must have missed it."

Missed it… how could she miss it? It sounded so impossible. He wondered if she was with her family, experiencing the last butterflies of her last night alone—her last night bearing the name _Stryfe_.

"The wedding is tomorrow." He expressed dejectedly.

"She's coming back, Vash."

Maybe she wasn't…

"Vash! If she said she was coming back, she'll come back!" Millie insisted.

She found she really loved Charles…or he talked her into it. Either of the two would have explained why she wasn't here.

Millie stood up firmly. "Vash, I've been around Meryl lots, and I know when she puts her mind to it, she does whatever she can to do whatever it is!"

He didn't deserve her… he never had.

"We need to get some rest," Vash suggested. "We need to be sharp tomorrow. I need you to be in top condition… your head on straight. If you must help me, please listen to whatever I say." His tone still sounded depressed.

"I've got it!" She declared. "I'll do anything you ask me to. I promised Meryl I would."

"No matter what happens, okay?" He emphasized.

Having Millie come with him to meet Chame and Knives, increased his worries. He trusted her, but didn't want anything to happen to her. In just a few hours they would be in Brooklin, hopefully ending all conflict and bloodshed once and for all.

"I'll listen to you Vash…" Millie answered.

Only when he stood up, did he realize how stiff his limbs felt.

"Thank you, Millie, and if anything should hap-"

"It will be alright, Vash, it will be rough, but I know everything will be alright."

He looked at her. He savored another moment of the hidden beauty Millie possessed. She had such faith, and found the simple truths that others often over looked. It made her seem almost naive, while at the same, it raised her above everyone else.


	25. Murder

'That song…'

Clint was standing in a field of green. The sky was a bright blue. He wasn't sure how he had gotten there, but for some reason, it didn't seem to matter much. Soothing, the singing hit his ears… the song that could never be forgotten… He wasn't sure where it was coming from. The sound seemed to be radiating everywhere and nowhere all at once. A shadow rose up from behind him in the grass, and the singing was cut short.

Eager to find out who was there with him, he turned around, but his joy melted away when he did not recognize the woman. He had never seen her before, and her burrowing eyes made Clint feel suddenly uncomfortable.

Neither of them spoke and as silence took over, he observed her features. Her dark hair was very long, and her skin looked fresh and vibrant, like she had never endured the rough climate and sun rays everyone else had on Gunsmoke. Perhaps she was generally a happy person, because her saddened expression didn't seem to suit her at all.

"Clint." Finally, a small smile broke across her face.

"Who are you?" He quickly asked.

She didn't answer, but took several steps closer to him, examining his facial features. She was so close, that Clint felt uncomfortable, but he dared not look away. Her smile widened.

"You are so much like them." She concluded.

Before Clint could ask who, she turned and started walking away to a grassy hill. After a short hesitation, he followed her. When he reached the top of the hill and stood next to her, he immediately noticed the dry cracking bed of ugly dirt on the other side. No grass, except for what they had just left, could be seen for iles and iles.

"What happened here?" He asked the woman.

"Nothing yet. We have to create it."

Clint walked onto the dirt. The surface cracked under his feet. Nothing would grow here. Everything was too dry. Just when he was about to express this to the woman, he turned around and found several patches of vivid green where he had previously stepped. Bewildered, he bent down and brushed his fingers through it. The woman knelt down next to him, a sliver of satisfaction sprouted on her face as she watched his amazement.

"You can create it," she told him, but Clint was only half listening. Green seemed to be growing on every grain of dirt he had touched. Life was sprouting before his eyes.

"You, and Vash, and Knives."

He froze and looked up at her. His heart began to beat unusually fast, with excitement or fear, he didn't know which.

"What?" He asked.

"Clint, you have to get up." She said.

He lowered his eyebrows trying to understand her.

"Get up Clint."

He stood up.

"Get up." She said again.

He didn't understand what she meant. He was on his feet, what else did he need to do?

"You have to find them," she said. "Please, Clint. You have to find them right now."

"Who?" He asked, although he felt he knew the answer.

"Knives and Vash."

As the names left her, he felt goosebumps run down his skin. Her eyes were full of intense anxiety and worry. He felt uncomfortable again.

"Get up." Her voice seemed to burst out over the land, and Clint suddenly felt like he was being pulled away from reality.

His heart was pounding as his eyes bolted open. He was staring into darkness, trying to remember where he was. Finally, it came to him. He was in bed, at Millie's brother's refuge. Slowly, his heart returned to its usual rhythm.

'I was only dreaming.' He thought heavily. He took a deep breath and rolled over. Immediately, sleep overtook him, and he began dreaming vividly again. This time the woman looked disappointed to see him.

"Clint…"

She rushed over to him. Everything was windy now, and her long hair was being pulled in different directions. She hugged him tightly, and Clint suddenly felt he belonged with her. She seemed like a friend he had lost long ago.

"Clint, listen to me." As she spoke, she still held him close in her arms. "It's time for you to wake up. Go find Vash and Knives."

Disappointment occupied Clint's stomach.

"But Vash told me to stay. I promised him I wouldn't go. If I went, I would only make more problems. It's too dangerous for me."

The woman smiled slightly at his words. A part of her seemed pleased with his explanation, but her eyes looked on him in a way that reminded him of his mother. Her expression bothered him, and he felt like she hadn't understood him accurately.

"Clint," she said, "it's too dangerous _without_ you." She explained calmly.

He shook his head.

The wind was picking up speed.

"I can't go." He insisted. "If Chame or someone finds me, he can use me to get to Vash. What if they find me before Vash does? Why should I go and cause more trouble? It doesn't make sense. There's no logic in that."

She pulled away from him.

"Never put all your trust into logic. Life will never be sweet if you just hold onto logic," she told him. She sounded motherly again. "Clint, you have to go. You need to leave right now!"

He looked forward at the dry desolate land, trying to make up his mind. He couldn't see how finding Vash was going to help to any degree. Clint wasn't a gunman.

"Even if I did get up to go find them, how would I get to Brooklin? It's the middle of the night, I don't have anything for defense, little cash, and buses don't arrive at this hour." Clint frowned as his eyes scanned over the patches of green he had formerly left behind.

"Trust me," the woman said. She gently kissed him on the head. "Wake up."

When Clint woke up in his bed this time, he felt a knot in his stomach. One glance at the clock told him it was a quarter passed three. He lay there. His dream had been so vibrant. He felt compelled to follow the woman's directions, but he didn't understand why. What would happen if he put all his trust into intuition now? What if someone got hurt because he had joined the fight?

Or what if someone got hurt because he didn't?

Making up his mind, he pulled the covers away from his body. The air chilled his skin. Quickly, he dressed. He found his wallet and tucked it away into his pocket. He took a handful of pills Knives had made him, and then he quietly departed the room.

….

Brooklin was eerie when Vash and Millie arrived. They had their driver drop them off a half an ile away, because Vash didn't want to risk the man's life by insisting he drive into the city.

No evidence of current occupation existed in the ghost town. Nearly all the buildings had been weathered. Crumbling occurred on various walls.

When Brooklin had been alive, it had been known for its huge research center, which was the largest building on Gunsmoke. Many educated graduates went there to study, experiment, and stretch the boundaries of science.

In silence, Vash led Millie to this science-bound structure. The outlaw worked to calm his apprehension with each step. This was the building Chame's note had suggested Knives meet him. Perhaps they were both inside now, hunting one another. His sea-green eyes scanned the remaining architecture of the structure. Surprisingly, it appeared well intact.

"You have your gun? Millie?" Vash asked her for the third time.

The stress in his voice was like alcohol on a drunk's breath.

"Yes, Vash."

"Everything I say…you promise to do everything I say?"

"I swear on it, Vash. Are they in there?" She asked, her blue eyes penetrating the run down building.

"Knives is in there," Vash answered. "I assume Chame is also…" He turned from the building to look at Millie. "You don-"

"Vash, I am coming. I'm helping you. You should accept it by now. You don't have to be alone. I'll obey everything you ask of me."

After studying her, Vash handed her the small machine which looked like a pen. "Speak to me with it if we are separated. I'll be able to hear you."

Millie took it carefully, like the object was made out of a thin sheet of glass.

"Knives will know I'm here, but I don't know if Chame will. I don't know what Knives… be cautious if we run into him first." Vash quickly redirected his sentence. "I don't know if he's a friend, or an enemy…We'll try to do something to stop all this."

"Chame thinks he is doing what is right." Millie added.

"Just like everyone dragged into this… people have different ways of thinking… a lot of people try to put a stop to hate and hurt, but the difference is in what we intend to do to stop it."

Vash pocketed his sunglasses and retrieved his silver handgun. Then, with a sense of stealth, they entered the building.

Inside, chilling air weaved passed them. The lights were unable to function any longer, but the sunlight pressed in through the dirty windows, trying feebly to fill the building with warmth. Knives was far away from them at the moment, and Vash had no idea what direction to go. He randomly chose the left hall to venture down. He checked around every corner with Millie cautiously, making sure the orphan wouldn't ambush them.

…

Alone, Knives walked through the building. He smelled medicine mingled with dust in the air. The tile he currently traveled on was cracked in several places, and farther down the hall, an enlarged image of a spider was being projected through one of the windows. Its shadow loomed darkly on the wall. Glancing at the small insect as he walked by, he noticed the elaborate web and the white violin shape placed on its underside. It was alone.

Knives halted. Vash suddenly entered his mind. His brother was here. He wasn't surprised, but extremely annoyed with the idea. Vash's arrival was a recipe for Vash's own death. Knives told him not to come. The infliction he would receive would be Vash's choice. Knives pushed the idea out of his mind. He didn't have time to contemplate Vash anymore. It didn't matter if Vash wanted to die. He never listened to Knives. Knives had more important actions to take, like tracking down Chame.

"Mia-yow." Rade, the albino cat, had just turned down the same hall as Knives. The feline stopped in his tracks. After eyeing the hall's occupant, he darted back around the corner.

Knives clenched his gun tightly, and then turned down the hall. He found the cat again, but it turned down yet another hall.

Just as Knives turned down the next, Rade froze and hissed at him, flaring his giant red eyes. Chame was right behind him.

"Chame."

For having proclaimed such deadly hatred, the orphan looked calm as he stared into Knives' eyes.

"Lower your gun, I'm not here to kill you." The orphan explained.

Knives didn't budge. His eyes cold and sharp, like an eagle's on prey. Chame's words were too out of character and reeking with lies.

"Do you know who's here?" Chame asked through his yellowing teeth.

Knives was still.

"You know he's here." He said. "Finally, in the same building, _Vash the Stampede_."

Knives still stared intently with his gun up, pointed at the orphan.

"I've brought him to you."

Chame's statement was a lie. Vash came because he, Knives had shown him the note. He doubted it had anything to do with Chame's meddling.

"The very person— the very _reason_ you ever needed me…he's down stairs, right now." Chame continued.

How could Chame expect Knives to believe such an out of character idea? Chame, who had been trying to murder him, wouldn't suddenly offer up Knives' brother for his glory.

"And this is here," Chame held up a syringe of the plant destroying substance. "It's what you've been after all this time." He pushed the substance into the gun.

Knives didn't budge.

"Here," Chame held out the weapon. "I'll let you have your glory to gain my trust."

"Trust for what? I'm here to kill you." Knives explained simply.

"Trust for everything. I can't kill you. You're too glorious. After our last visit, I just don't think I have the heart to let such legend die. I'm just like you, only completely imperfect race-wise. We're one in the same. Kill Vash, and I'll do all your genetic doings…kill the humans, create more plants if you wish."

"Why? I killed Janell."

"If you don't believe me, take this," Chame stretched the gun out farther. "I can't kill you without it."

Knives stared at it.

"I swear my allegiance. I see now, such power, such an angelic creature truly must be our destiny. No one else stands a chance against such creation."

Chame eyed Knives eagerly.

Without a jerk or twitch, Knives reached for the gun with richness.

A flash of triumph overcame Chame's grey eyes.

….

"Millie?" Vash called with a loud whisper. "Millie?" He called louder.

She poked her head from around a corner.

"This place is like a maze, stay close to me." Vash urged.

"Maybe we should split up." She suggested.

"I don't see why we should. I think it's safer if we stick together."

Millie nodded.

They traveled for nearly an hour. Because the building had such great stature, they hadn't run into anyone. Apart from their footsteps, everything was silent.

A sudden, overwhelming feeling overcame Vash as he sensed Knives' increasing speed toward him. He was coming to meet them. And he was running.

"Millie, hide, it's Knives."

"Right." She disappeared through one of the doors on the other side of the hall. Vash waited for the door to close before he moved.

He sensed Knives again, and weaved his way toward him with inclusive caution.

His heart began beating loudly in his ears.

…

Inside the large room, Millie found it full of cupboards. Boxes were in the corner, a broken sink was against the wall, and a dusty glass lamp was near a sturdy desk. She sat down quietly at the desk and placed her gun and the pen-like object Vash had given to her on its surface. As time elapsed, she wondered about Vash and fingered through some yellowing pages she found in the desk drawer.

Then she heard footsteps.

Millie froze.

They were quiet steps, but getting a fraction louder with each sound.

Millie picked up her gun and crept carefully to the door in order to catch a glance of the person. About 15 minutes had passed since Vash had left, and she was sure it wasn't him.

Clinging onto her gun for life support, she peaked through the crack under the door, at the threshold. With a silent gasp, Millie recognized the feminine shoes at once. They were Meryl's.

Quietly slitting open the door, she risked another peak to verify. It _was_ Meryl. Her face looked weary, but her violet eyes were alert.

Millie quickly pushed the door open.

Meryl turned to Millie sharply, her gun up. Hurriedly, she lowered it as Millie bounded to Meryl and forced her into an embrace.

Both insurance girls were ready to attack each other with questions when, within a split second, a gunshot sounded. Millie's eyes widened with a hurtful surprise. Her weight fell forward onto Meryl, who grasped her tightly.

"Millie-!" Meryl gasped. She looked passed her wildly, searching for the source of the bullet.

Chame's gun-filled hand fell to his side, limp. His figure was framed gauntly in the hall, and a strip of sunlight danced across his chest from a nearby window.

Meryl brushed her hand over Millie's back in silent shock. Blood. Warm, wet, blood flooded her palm.

She looked back to Chame with staggering eyes. The man's expression looked just as stunned as Meryl.

"Forgive me, Wolfwood," Chame pleaded, horror struck. He stumble a few steps forward, his empty hand outstretched as if to help his victim.

In a flash, Meryl raised her gun and aimed it at him.

"Millie," Chame cried with astonishment.

"Don't come any closer!" Meryl yelled fiercely at him.

His gun clattered loudly to the floor.

"Millie," Meryl said to her quietly.

She was still breathing. Meryl could feel her shallow breath on her skin.

"Are you okay? You are going to be okay." She said convincingly.

Millie's sky blue eyes looked into Meryl's. Water glossed over them from the corners. Without any words, they both realized the bullet was meant for Meryl's head.

"Wolfwood!" Chame moaned as if his very salvation had been taken away from him.

Meryl threw a glare at him before returning to Millie.

"It looks like it's in the shoulder blade," she explained. "Don't worry you'll be fine, I swear you'll be fine."

"Wolfwood what has become of me?"

"I told you to get the heck out of here," Meryl spat. "Beat it!"

"Millie, is there anything I can do?" Chame asked.

How could he ask her that? Meryl wondered fiercely.

Profusely, Millie continued to bleed. Meryl could feel it running down the back of her hand, passed her knuckles. She struggled to stable her with one arm, while her other continued to point her gun in Chame's direction.

"Millie, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit you," he explained.

Meryl opened her mouth, but Millie answered before she could speak.

"You almost killed my best friend!"

Immediately, Chame stepped back, more shock resigning on his face. "She's with Knives! I've seen them together, I-"

Meryl's arm was shaking now.

"She's with me, Vash, and Wolfwood too. She-" Millie stopped.

She collapsed to the cold floor, taking Meryl down with her.

At once Chame rushed forward, but Meryl quickly obtained her aim. He halted.

"Millie, she's a double agent, she and Knives- they're working together!" Chame argued.

"You don't understand," Millie said quietly. "Don't kill any of them, they're all my friends. Please stop it!"

"Shh, Millie." Meryl urged. This talking was wasting time, wasting so much time, and she needed to think, she needed to get them somewhere safe.

Chame was enraged, and struggled to keep his anger hidden out of his voice. "Knives killed Wolfwood, you loved Wolfwood!"

"Chapel killed Wolfwood!" Meryl argued. Irritation lavished her words, while her heart picked up speed. She gently pulled herself out from under Millie.

"Chapel would have never killed Wolfwood! He raised him! It was Knives' mind meddling! He's the source of all this! This has always been about him! Him and stupid Vash," Chame yelled. "It was Knives' desire to kill Vash that has killed everyone! He's killed everyone to get to him. Everything happened because of those two. Everyone died because of them! The only people I ever cared for were killed by him…"

Blood was collecting on the floor, and Millie was growing paler.

"…And now it's my turn, my turn to have the glory, to put a stop to all this. Why can't you, out of all people, understand?"

"Stop it!" Meryl yelled. "We don't have time for this. You've shot Millie, and she's bleeding."

Chame's expression sobered. He shook his head. "It's not going to stop. What have I done?"

Meryl ignored him. She took one glance at his fallen weapon, and then tried to help Millie up. She struggled to get a grip, to keep her gun up, and get anywhere. She couldn't do it, not by herself, not with one hand. Her heart was pumping faster as her breathing picked up speed. Where was Vash? No one was here to help them.

Chame stepped closer to them.

Meryl's hand was shaking as she held the gun to him. "I've already told you twice."

But as he came closer, she didn't shoot. His cold eyes never looked at her, and now that he was so close to them, Meryl could truly see his features. He had chaliced skin, sunken eyes, hallowed cheeks, cracked lips, and dirty hair. His features looked worn beyond repair. When he picked Millie up, he did it with ease, soberness.

Meryl felt tempted to attack him for touching her, for harming them, but she had no other options.

"Put her inside," Meryl ordered, struggling to sound authoritative. She nodded to the door where Millie had first bounded out of only minutes ago.

Chame whispered something quietly to his victim as he carried her inside.

"Don't talk to her!" Meryl said harshly.

"There are some blankets in those boxes." He spoke.

Meryl's eyes found the stacks of dusty boxes. Hesitant to believe him, she side stepped to reach them, and found to her surprise that he was speaking honestly with her.

"Two rooms south of here, you'll find some bandages. But it won't work, nothing will work. Nothing here will work."

He placed Millie gently down. Watching him, Meryl felt uneasy.

"Please forgive me, Millie… I'm sorry Wolfwood, it was an accident."

"Matthew, please don't kill them," Millie whispered.

"Don't you understand?" His tone changed abruptly, it was harsh again. "Even Wolfwood was going to kill Vash, and he wanted to kill Knives."

"Wolfwood, Wolfwood,_Wolfwood_!" Meryl snarled. Blankets in hand, she ordered Chame's small retreat aggressively. But he still wouldn't depart the room. "Do you even know why he died? Wolfwood died for _us_, he sacrificed himself for Vash to put a stop to this!" Meryl yelled. "He was killed because he refused to kill Vash, and if Wolfwood is so important to you, why don't you take value in what he died for?"

Chame was speechless.

Meryl wadded a blanket up and placed it behind Millie's head for support.

"Wolfwood was supposed to kill Vash… that's how he was going to pay for the orphanage…" Chame said quietly. "That's how I was going to finish his work. He sacrificed everything for that orphanage, and I'm going to finish it with Vash's bounty. He wouldn't have died for that, everything was for the orphanage. _Everything._"

"I just want all this to stop. Matthew, killing won't stop the hurt." Millie whispered.

"No, it will make me alive again. It took everything!" Chame had tears now; they clashed horribly with his harsh voice. "You can't even imagine what my life as has been because of him. You don't know what it is like. I have to kill him. IT'S ALL I LIVE FOR!"

His yell penetrated the room. His eyes were livid. They wouldn't listen to him. They wouldn't understand. Enraged, he left them, dropping his blood stained traveling coat over the red puddle just outside the door.

Meryl watched him through the open door as he picked up his gun. He turned a different direction, and disappeared from their view.

Meryl turned to Millie. "Hang on. I'm going to get you cleaned up as best I can. Do you know where Vash is?"

She slightly shook her head. "He went to meet Knives," she whispered. Her eyes lingered to the desk.

Meryl's stomach turned over. She and Millie were easy targets. Knives was the only one who didn't know their whereabouts, and how would he treat Vash?

'One thing at a time,' she reminded herself.

"I'm going to look for those bandages. I'll be right back," she reassured.

On her way out, she seized Chame's coat, cleaned up the mess, and tossed it inside. Then she shut the door.

….

When Clint arrived in Brooklin, he no longer felt doubt in his decisions. He had no idea who the woman that had visited him in his dreams was, but when his feet pressed down on the dry dirt of the ghost town, he knew she was something more than an illusion.

After he had left Millie's brother's shelter, he had ironically found a bus at the bus stop. The vehicle was privately owned, and a group of what appeared to be friends and family was on what sounded like a vacation. Clint wasn't sure what their intentions or origins were, but they were willing to give him a ride. He boarded for free, feeling a flutter of unusual success.

He dozed off once on his ride, and once again dreamed of the mysterious woman. She assured him that he was making a decent decision. She felt so close to him. Her words were clear in his mind and ears. Her presence made Clint feel both uneasy and relaxed, like an old awkward memory.

On the way to the next city, the bus broke down conveniently near Brooklin. Clint had enough sense to get off and begin his walk towards Vash and Knives. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he knew he had one advantage. None of them knew he was coming.

He had never seen Brooklin before. He had never needed or wanted to. When he began walking through it, he pondered if the city of July had looked the same way when it had been destroyed. He wasn't sure what had happened there, but as he began to ponder, he concluded that July was probably in worse shape than Brooklin.

Quicker than expected, Clint reached the crumbling research center. He stopped and stared at the entrance. At one time a door had clearly covered it, but now the room inside was exposed. Dust and dirt had snuck in through the opening, and the sunlight lightly revealed the room's grim condition.

Clint remembered the long-haired woman. She was so worried. What would he find inside? He became chilled with the thought.

….

Millie's wound had been worse than even Meryl had expected. She remembered Chame's wailing and his rambling about the wound's inability to heal. A touch of fear occupied her, but she pushed it aside, dressing the hole to the best of her ability. Once Millie had been aided, Meryl went to the desk and picked up the small pen-like object. She felt a flutter of anxiety mixed with excitement. She knew this device was Vash's and enabled the holder to communicate with him. He didn't know she was here.

….

Vash continued swiftly through a hall lined with windows. His shadow interrupted the sunlight and elongated on the wall behind him as he traveled. Then the outlaw turned east, leaving the light and windows behind. Knives was still after him.

Although they were brothers, he and Knives differed in extremes. Knives was much superior with his plant abilities, and he could pinpoint exactly where and how plants were just by mentally locating them. Vash, on the other hand, was less practiced in these areas. He could sense them, but not distinctly. The closer he went towards them, the more his conscious seemed to detect them as a large splotch of an area. They were hazy, and so was Knives, who was moving towards him. Vash didn't know from what precise location he was coming.

As Vash rushed for his brother, and his brother rushed for him, the outlaw felt his sense of Knives grow stronger, until, finally Vash swore that if he opened his mouth, he would taste him.

Vash slowed his pace immediately. Knives was near, but he could not distinguish where. Rounded with caution, he quietly crept around corners and down another hall. He kept his gun up right, on guard, but aware that it was more than likely he had no sort of stealth anymore. Knives knew where he was. He always did. The question was when he wished to reveal himself.

Inching towards another intersection of halls, Vash kept his eyes sharp, and his breath silent. His feet rolled through each step, and his boots wrinkled with every curve. Up against the wall, he increased his guard. Knives could be in the nearest shadow, or around the narrowest corner.

Vash had reached the next intersection now. Carefully, he peered around the corner opposite him. No one was there.

"_Vash? Vash!_"

His heart jumped. He knew the voice. At once he turned to find the owner, but he was alone.

"_Vash?!_" The voice had become more frantic, and he suddenly realized that the small insurance girl must have found Millie, for the noise was only loud enough for his own ear to hear.

"Meryl?" he asked in shock. He felt a rush of emotion.

"Tell me where you are," she demanded. "Are you ok?"

Vash could hardly pull his mind together to speak. What was going on? Fear suddenly flooded him. _Was _the speaker Meryl? Or was this a trick? And were both Millie and Meryl safe?

"I'm on the third floor, east side." He answered. "Who is this?" he asked. "Is Millie ok?"

"Vash, this is Meryl."

Suddenly, a flash of black and gold corrupted Vash's vision. A sound of sliding feet broke the silence. He brought his handgun up.

Vash was staring at his brother as an expression of pure loathsome spread itself across Knives' dignified face.

Looking a little lower, Vash spotted a gun. The weapon wasn't Knives', it was Chame's.

"Get against the wall," Knives commanded with ease.

Vash followed his orders with gentleness, pressing his back against the plane. Observing his brother, he noted Knives' cold blue eyes. A twinge of disappointment and anxiety overcame him as he recognized their emptiness.

"Drop the gun." Knives ordered.

With delicacy, Vash let the gun clank to the ground near Knives' feet.

In silence, they stared at each other for several moments. Neither moved.

"I told you not to come," Knives said finally.

"Yes, you did…but you also told me you didn't want me dead."

"Why did you come?" He asked.

"To stop you two from inflicting anymore damage in this _eden_." Vash answered automatically.

"How…Vash?"

"Unity."

"Naive and contradicting, always naïve and contradicting." Knives murmured.

Vash was silent.

"I could kill you right now, the way I had always intended it, but you are right, I don't want you dead. It's Chame I want."

"He doesn't deserve to die, and you don't deserve to kill him." Vash answered. "Knives, you don't have to kill him."

"It's logic."

"Then logic hasn't been good to you…" Vash insisted. "Why do you let it control you?"

"Vash, logic will always be the same, but you can't stop everyone's murders. There will never be constant peace."

"No, not if there are moments like this. There will never be an eden with this. We're brothers, and there's a gun to one of us."

"You never accept me." Knives explained.

"There will always be room for you." Vash assured. "There is another way around this. Knives, I'll help you. We can find another way." He held out his hand.

"Don't feed me this waste. Rem's theories are incoherent."

"I believe no one has to die. Everyone can get along, and we can make peace with Matthew somehow. No one has a license to kill."

"Darn you, Vash! Shut up!" Knives growled menacingly. "I'm sick and tired of listening to these childish dreams!"

"Please Knives, I swear everything will be okay. It will be alright!" Vash insisted. His hand was still outstretched to his brother.

"I don't give a darn if it will be alright!" He yelled. "THAT'S NOT THE POINT! YOU CAN NEVER STOP IT!"

"Everyone here controls the future, even we do. Please don't kill him. I'm begging you, Knives." His voice sounded childish. Its forgotten familiarity came back to Knives and reminded him of innocence untarnished, of hopeful days that were inexperienced and uncorrupted.

For a moment Knives' eyes glanced passed Vash, he could hear someone coming. The footsteps were getting louder. Was it Chame?

Vash didn't dare look away from his brother. His stomach suddenly contorted. Illness swept in and his face whitened because of the rushing noise. A new sense of urgency took over his words.

"Don't do it! You don't have to do it!" he cried desperately.

"STOP IT!" Knives raged with hatred. His eyes darted back to Vash with pure disgust. "SHUT UP!"

"Kniv-"

He pulled the trigger.

Vash felt a small puncture in his skin, something similar to a dart had shot into his chest. Its narrow, sharp end buried in under his skin.

Swiftly, he pulled it out, but ¾ of the liquid had already been injected into his body. The damage had happened so fast, only a fraction of a second had elapsed.

Vash dropped the syringe. It fell to the floor with the remaining liquid dancing inside.

The injection had been so simple. With next to no pain, the poison was in his system. Shocking, how a pin prick could be so altering.

Vash felt a cooling sensation as the liquid dispersed quickly through his blood stream. His hammering heart was pumping the disease rapidly to all ends of his body, and with each beat, it seemed to increase in speed.

Wandering slowly with astonishment, his eyes found Knives' blazing expression. It was twisted, angry, and even more horrifying to see in the silence. Shadows of youth and laughter were nonexistent on its surface. His eyes radiated with hatred as they stared into Vash's. The outlaw could see his own surprised expression mirrored frighteningly in them. His blue-washed image seemed projected, as if it had been hidden away inside those cold angry eyes for centuries.

Chame had never murdered to him. It had been Knives all along.

Knives kept the gun pointed threateningly at his brother. No doubt, more liquid resided in it.

Finally, the footsteps stopped abruptly. Whoever had been coming had now arrived.

Glancing out of the corner of his eye, Vash felt a rush of despair. Meryl Stryfe had reached the intersection. Her look of slight surprise disappeared as she quickly raised her gun at Vash's brother.

"Knives, put the gun down!" She ordered loudly.

Knives looked to Vash. "Now it's your lover against your brother." He stated with simplicity. A dark smirk claimed his face as his eyes burned into Vash.

"Knives, I won't let you kill your own brother. You can't possibly wish for something like that." Meryl's words were full of emotion.

"No…" he answered in his same simplistic tone. "But it's what had to happen." His eyes looked down towards the ground.

Meryl followed them. She spotted the dart on the floor. Time appeared to pause for a moment as she took in the information. Her chest rose and fell with rapid speed. She glanced at Vash but seemed unable to rest her gaze on him.

Looking back up at Knives with angry tears, she held her gun up with more authority. "You didn't," she said, dangerously.

Knives stared at her with a placid expression. He seemed unmoved by her emotion.

"Put the gun down, or I swear, Knives, I'll shoot you!" She threatened.

"You can't," Knives answered, smooth as silk.

Suddenly Meryl's hand felt tired, but she was unable to move it. Some invisible force had frozen every centimeter of it. As she looked into Knives' serene eyes, she knew it was his work, his expertise in plant ability that would frieze her. She wouldn't let him win. She couldn't tolerate his power and unfailing eyes.

Vash's legs twitched, and his knees buckled. He was beginning to feel very cold and tired.

"You killed him!" Meryl cried in agony. Tears were falling rapidly from her. "You killed your own brother! I hate you!" She yelled. "You've ruined everything! You disgusting animal!"

Knives seemed to take leisure in her words. He continued to stare at her with subdued interest.

"You killed the man who loved you most! He was the only one kind enough to truly love you, even after you destroyed everything of his, his home, his friends, his enemies, and his whole life. You're selfish! You killed everything, and you're responsible for everything! And now, finally, you killed him— the only one who cared about you when no one cared about him. If anyone on this planet deserves to die, it's you!" Words could scarcely quench Meryl's desire to ruin him. After everything they had been through, and all the time and effort Vash had put into this wretched creature, he still was willing to kill his own brother. He had murdered him. Vash was going to die because of him.

Vash was on the ground now, beginning to have tears again. 'The yelling,' he thought. 'Just stop the yelling.' Meryl… how could she say those horrible words? The hate… the hate started all of it. Wasn't it the circle of hate that they really all hated so much? Man continues to struggle to destroy it, but why won't it stop? Why was Meryl adding to it? Vash listened to her angry words. They had never been so strong and forceful. Not _ever_… make them stop...

Disgusting…selfish…evil…

The words pounded in Vash as if it was the virus itself.

"Please don't, Meryl." Vash said.

She fell silent. She loathed Knives. She wanted him gone, and she could hardly contain the idea.

Knives smirked. "It seems that I'm not the only one killing Vash." He spoke with iciness.

"-Don't add to the circle of hate," Vash insisted, "It only increases hate more. Meryl."

Quivering with mixed emotions, Meryl looked at the ground, hurtful.

"Knives, you murdered him," was all she said, before a new rush of tears overcame her. "You killed Vash."

Knives reached down and picked up the tranquil. The remaining liquid continued to splash around inside the clear cylinder.

Vash's eye color was fading.

"Don't touch him," Meryl cried as Knives neared his victim.

Vash was sitting sprawled against the wall. Fatigue overtaking him as his brother reached him. He felt chilled.

Then with one quick move, Knives stabbed the needle back into Vash's skin. He pushed the remaining, freezing fluid into Vash's blood stream. He pulled the syringe away and reinserted it elsewhere, and began filling the empty dart full of the outlaw's red blood.

"How can you?" Meryl asked, horrified. He had murdered Vash, and had rubbed it in her face.

Knives didn't answer, but stood up, and began a swift pace away from them. He left Meryl with Vash to share his turmoil. He had no need for it. Such emotions would slow him down. Carefully, he loaded Chame's weapon with Vash's fresh blood, and raced to his enemy.

When Meryl felt the heaviness of her body leave, she fell down next to Vash, crying. How had it all happened? Vash would never get what he wanted, he would never find peace. He was here, dying. She could hardly stand the thought. She felt like she would die as well. All this was because of Knives.

This circle of hate…won't ever stop. It's what gave Knives the power to kill, the killing creates more hate, and the hate feeds more killing. A moment ago, Meryl nearly felt she had the power to kill herself…but it wouldn't stop it, it would never quench her hurt and anger towards that murderer. She found it equally disturbing and disgusting to remember she had traveled with that killer, had helped that killer, and that she had hope for that killer…for a short time.

"Meryl."

Vash's eyes were stark white now, like Clint's angel eyes

"You came for me."

Somehow his voice made more tears slide down. Yes, she came for him, and now he was doomed to a slow painful death.

"Of course I came for you," she cried. "My first bus broke down, so I didn't meet you yesterday."

"And all this time I thought I was the one who made us have such bad luck."

His comment did little to cheer her. She didn't even bother to pretend to smile.

"Don't look so upset yet," he reassured. "I'm still alive…it's really just the sudden intake that's getting to me."

Meryl knew that Vash's life span was affected by how much of the virus he had been exposed to, but she had no idea if the amount he had been given would overcome him in years, months, or weeks.

"Let's get you out of the hall. Millie is back in another room." Meryl shared. With her help and the stability of the wall, Vash was brought to his feet. He swayed slightly before retaining an upright position. Meryl securely put her arm around him. Suddenly, she realized how far the room was from them. When she had been running to meet Vash, it had felt far far away from him, but now it felt like iles.

With cautious determination, Vash walked down the first hall, but in the second his legs and breath began to shake. Meryl tried to stable him, but when they stopped for a moment, the outlaw fell on the ground, sweat dripping off his face. His insides felt like ice, and every breath of air that entered his lungs was chilling as it resided and escaped. Little relief of warmth took place before another inhalation of cold was taken in to pierce his organs again. He was finding it harder to breathe, like someone was standing on his chest. His head was aching and surreal.

Then with some sort of rupture, a power exploded into his being. He cried out. This power was frightening, sickening. His heart pounded against his rib cage. With another cry, something sprung out of his back, tearing it apart. Four wings stretched out as some sort of chords reached out. The sensation was powerful, so powerful, it was overwhelming. He never knew such a power resided in him. He didn't understand where it had been hiding all this time. And Knives had been right, his energy was the most extreme he had ever witnessed. More than even Knives had expressed in his previous battle with Chame. It was terrifying.

He withered. He felt awful. Embarrassed that Meryl had to see him in this twisted deformity.

The small insurance girl knelt down next to him, tear stricken. She was saying his name.

"Vash… _Vash_…"

Her hand was held out for him. After a painful gasp, he stretch out and grabbed her entire arm, clinging to it. She was his raw support.


	26. DNA

Numb to his actions, Knives darted down another hall, placing the dart full of Vash's blood back into Chame's gun. Now would begin the end. It wasn't about killing Vash, it was about killing Chame. Vash's beliefs had just gotten in the way. Knives couldn't believe them anymore. Not again. He was sick of hearing them, always hearing them, but only for a few more months now. In a few more months, Vash would be dead and his beliefs out of the way.

Back stabbing. Yes, that's exactly what Chame had intended. Knives had accepted it, to race him to the back stabbing. Chame was too out of character to suddenly give up his life to serve the person he hated. Chame used his trickery to get to Knives' pride, and then he planned on backstabbing him. Knives was too keen. It was he who would do the backstabbing.

A faint sense brought the plant's mind to something else.

'_Clint_.'

Knives wondered how odd that his nephew would be here. Clint. Vash's son. Odd that past and future affect each other so much. Knives wondered, in this moment, if the future could really be changed at all. Vash would be dead in a few months. _Months, not years_. Vash still dies…but…quicker than Clint remembered. Before Clint could remember, before…Clint was even a thought.

His nephew's texture faded slightly more in Knives' senses.

….

Clint stuffed three more pills down his throat.

He had been taking medication for as long as he could remember. When he was a child, he thought it was some sort of tasteless candy, a sugar fix, but once he found he could have as much as he wanted, he realized the pills were nothing of the sort. He kept them in a bottle that was tucked away in his pocket or backpack. Here, they would jingle together as he walked. He didn't begin to understand them until he was nine.

Half-breed. Half plant and half human and only two years after the understanding did it sound horrible. For plant and human to coincide, extra effort is necessary. Plant DNA and human DNA is enemies to each another. The plant system (one Clint hadn't learned anything of until recently) attacked the human system, making anything with the two difficult to survive. He was a rare case. A "miracle" his mom said— a miracle that somehow both genes had combined together, although, they never would quite coincide.

As Clint continued through the building, his sense of Vash tingled. Something was different. Even with his medication he could feel it, taste it. Vash was different.

….

Millie opened her eyes when she heard the door burst. Meryl and Vash were framed in it. The sight of them was both frightening and brilliant. Meryl looked worn and exhausted. She buckled under Vash's weight. Cords weaved around her. With a ruthless tug, the plant toppled in after her. Landing on top of Chame's bloody overcoat, Vash collapsed to the floor. His chest, his breath, heaving as his body shook.

Forgetting her pain, Millie sat up. She cringed at the sudden outburst in her back.

Vash's eyes were blank, just like Clint's. She had seen them white only one other time, after he had been put in prison for suspected murder.

Four huge new limbs stretched out from the plant, also white. His wings took up the excess space of the room, making it look suddenly cluttered.

Meryl carefully pulled Vash's foot that had been sticking outside the room, through the doorway and inside. She continued moving his legs by lifting both of his knees. In this position, if the door was to open, he wouldn't get hit.

The cords remained weaving through her, moving elegantly. She went to reach the door, but found herself encased in them. Her breathing was steady. She wasn't afraid of them. With mild patience, she untangled herself. She reached the door. Finally, she closed the door.

"Meryl?" Millie said tentatively.

The small insurance girl didn't answer. She pulled out the overcoat from under Vash, and tossed it in the corner of the room. Vash's shaking and breathing began to slow. Uncomfortably, he rolled to his side, his wings jutting out in odd angles.

Meryl put her hands on his face. His skin was burning. Sweat dripped across Meryl's fingers. He looked frightened. His fear disturbed her. What could she do?

"Vash…"

His white eyes were endless, giving the façade of emptiness. His expression softened.

They stared into one another, their hearts beating loudly with adrenaline.

Slowly, his eyes closed.

"I…" His voice was hoarse.

Meryl and Millie listened intently.

"I'm just cold… so cold…"

"Cold?" Meryl repeated, trying to keep alarm out of her voice. "Vash, you're burning up." She moved her palm to his forehead, although the motion was unnecessary. She already knew his skin was burning.

"Cold." He said again.

Meryl let go of him, nearly running to the pile of boxes in the room. She couldn't get the blankets out fast enough. Several of the boxes tumbled to the floor, revealing a chaotic tangle of fabric. She took the entire bundle and began covering Vash in the blankets she freed. When two of them were tangled inseparably, she abandoned them and grabbed a different bundle.

After several blankets had been fashioned around him, the plant's quivering reduced slightly.

"Does that help?" Meryl asked.

Vash didn't answer. His eyes were still closed and she wondered if his consciousness had slipped away into oblivion for the time being.

Still feeling anxious, the small insurance girl turned to her partner.

"Millie, how are you? Are you still bleeding?"

"Don't worry, Meryl, I'll be okay. But what about Vash?" Millie asked.

Meryl didn't answer. Her eyes returned to the gunman. His wings looked stiff and full of tension. They were pure white with feathers, large, and because she personally knew Vash, gorgeous in a melancholy way. The cords (as best described) and other elements were odd and radiating a more stern power than the wings did. The strands moved slowly, elegantly. But not near as captivating as the wings.

Carefully stretching out her hand, Meryl touched the closest wing. The feathers were soft. She had forgotten just how soft feathers were. Rarely, had she touched one. She rubbed them until she realized she had let her curiosity creep into Vash's tender point of view again. Then she relocated her hand on her lap.

But now that she was sitting down next to the outlaw, with nothing to do, her mind violently darted to what had happened only minutes ago— the surprise, the hurt, and the twisted cold face of the murderer. _Knives…_

How she loathed the man. How she had always loathed that man.

'No, not always,' a small thought interjected. 'Not for a short time.'

Her hands gripped her clothes as she remembered everything about him

No one knew who he was, not even Knives knew who he was.

Finally, Vash's wings flopped down. He was tranquil apart from a twitch which occurred every now and then. He had stopped shaking. His breath was still rigid, but some sort of relaxation began to seep in. He was tired.

"Millie..." Meryl's voice was full of more hurt than she had expected. "It was Knives who shot the poison into Vash… not Chame."

Meryl didn't look at her. Her eyes remained on her clenching hands, which felt like the only safe place to look.

"Meryl."

Meryl's eyebrows twitched. Her voice was lost.

Meryl was sure Millie would comfort her warmly, would tell her that everything would be alright. She always was optimistic that way.

But those words didn't come.

"I'm sorry," Millie whispered.

….

The maze that enclosed the battle was being searched by Knives. The plant still couldn't quite grasp exactly what Chame did in order to close his mind from his. The orphan was impossible to track. This stealth was the one trick that kept him alive.

Now, Knives put Chame's weapon away. He didn't want to appear as a threat when his half-human enemy showed up.

Down two stories was where Knives finally ran into the victim, with as subtle surprise as possible.

"Master," Chame said automatically.

Rade stared up at Knives with his blood filled eyes.

"You did it?" Chame asked

Knives nodded in response.

Slapping a fake look of glee on his face, Chame cried, "Then this is the best day imagined."

Knives smirked. "Yes, but the day isn't over, and we have much to do."

"Yes _master_."

A slight tension filled moment passed, during which they stared at each other. Knives broke it with a motion for Chame to move ahead of him.

"I consider we leave," Knives said.

Chame hesitated and turned his revealing back to Knives before walking down the dark enclosed hall.

Feeling completely in control of the situation, Knives stared after him. If Chame didn't want to blow his cover, he would have to do everything Knives commanded.

As casual as possible, the half-human began to stroll down the hall towards the stairs, his disgusting cat prowling in his wake.

Knives followed, the plant blood-filled bullet still in his possession.

….

Footsteps were rushing on the floor just outside the door.

Meryl's heart picked up speed. She wasn't sure what would happen now, but she gripped her gun cautiously. Quietly, she edged to the door, carefully stepping over Vash's curled legs.

The footsteps halted. At once the door knob turned and swung open. Meryl aimed her gun. Surprise caught her as she stared face to face with an undistinguishable blond. First she thought he was Knives, and then her mind insisted he was Vash. When the impossibilities sunk in, she realized with a jolt that the loosely built blond was Clint.

Immediately, she lowered her gun.

"Clint, what are you doing here?" She asked at once. Her heart fluttered.

He couldn't explain everything to her, nor did he want to. What would she say when she heard he had followed a vivid dream to meet them here? That some long dark-haired woman urged him to continue?

A small smile tugged at Meryl's lips, glad he was still alive.

"I'm not so sure myself," he answered truthfully.

His eyes moved passed Meryl to Vash, who was huddled into himself on the floor, wingless again. He would have looked like he was simply sleeping if it hadn't been for the lines of exhaustion etched into his face. Several blankets were still fastened close to him.

"I sensed him earlier," Clint admitted.

After a quick glance at Meryl, he retreated to Vash's side. The outlaw looked fatigued, but fine.

"He's okay though. He just must be really tired from tapping into that energy."

Hesitating, Meryl shut the door again. She exchanged a depressed look with Millie before walking to the teenager. Her stomach knotted while her mouth ran dry.

After examining the outlaw, Clint turned to Millie. Unaware of the evasion he exercised with Meryl.

"What happened? Are you alright?" He asked in dismay.

"Chame shot her in the back," Meryl explained.

"He tried to kill Meryl," Millie said at once. Her voice was quiet but authoritative.

Millie had saved Meryl's life. The small insurance girl frowned. Meryl wished she could have exchanged the favor with Vash

"That's awful," Clint acknowledged. "I hope you're not in too much pain."

"I'll be okay," Millie reassured him. Her eyes darted to Meryl's, reinforcing her to inform Clint on the condition of Vash.

"Where is Chame now? What about Knives? He's on our side, right?"

Clint had understood the grey area Knives had taken. He was hard to understand, but as far as the teenager knew, he always sided with Vash in the end. Knives just had different ways of thinking.

Meryl didn't answer.

"Meryl?" Clint asked. "What's wrong?" He had a sincere, concerned look now.

"I'm really tired," she answered in a secluded voice.

"Oh…" Clint said, unsure.

With further observation, he found evidence that she had been crying. Mascara smudges were on the backs of her hands. Her eyes were redder than necessary for fatigue.

"What happened?" Clint asked again, more innocent and straining to understand what was wrong.

The expression looked more like Vash than anything Clint had done before. It was Vash's concern that swept his eyebrows down in a small slope. He tried to grasp the concept he was missing, concentrating hard on her. His lips gently pressed together. All focus and energy was on the idea, the unknown problem. His jaw line, and nose also resembled Vash's, and she could hardly stand to look at him.

"Is Knives okay?" He asked in a similar tone Vash used.

"Knives." Meryl repeated with loath. "No, Clint," she paused, controlling her voice. "It's Vash."

Clint looked at Vash. The outlaw's red coat was shredded along his back, like Knives' coat had been.

"Did he have wings?" Clint asked. "He used up a lot of energy, I can tell, he'll be fine after resting, don't worry."

"No, Clint," Meryl started again.

"Yes, he's just tired, Meryl." He reassured. "We'll let him get some rest, and try to sort out all this."

"You don't underst-"

"What can we do?" He cut her off. "Do we need to get anything done for Millie?"

"I did what I could," Meryl answered with disappointment. "But the wound is large and could become infected." She left out the ominous information Chame had told her. "I don't think there is much to do, Clint, except take care of Vash and Millie, stay focused and leave when it's over."

"This is all to stop Knives and Chame, right? Then we'll have to decide what to do with them." Clint pointed out.

Meryl watched him, feeling more terrible than before. He wouldn't accept what happened to Vash, he didn't want to know. Vash had, in some way, become his father's replacement. His father died from Chame, and now Vash was weaved into a similar fate.

His idea to interfere with Chame and Knives was faulty, but Clint was young. Meryl had no desire to ever see Vash's brother again, and she was afraid of the dangerous thoughts that would enter her mind if she caught sight of him. Hardly could she stand to imagine him leaving freely, but rationality leaked into her mind. And rationality would keep everyone safe.

"They won't listen, they're going to kill each other," Meryl explained. "That's what Vash tried to do-"

"We'll have to do something clever," Clint announced.

Thinking hard, he fell silent. If he could confuse Knives and Chame somehow…get them separated… and get them to leave…

Meryl watched the teenager uncomfortably.

"We'll split up," Clint insisted. "You will find Chame, and I will find Knives, and we'll lead them away from each other, get them both out of here, and in different directions. Then maybe we can talk some sense into them, or at least buy the problem more time for solving."

The plan would never work, Meryl thought, such a gamble, and the chances were slim. She would never let him near Knives.

"No," Meryl answered flatly.

"Then we'll swap. You take Knives and I'll take Chame."

"No, Chame doesn't know you, and you look too much like Vash," Meryl rejected at once.

"Chame might listen to me," Millie interjected.

"Millie, you can't go anywhere," Meryl argued. Her whole world was beginning to clatter into chaos. Her authority was beginning to fall away.

"Chame knows you Meryl," Clint pointed out. "You're friends with Millie, so let's stick with the original idea. We'll lead them in different directions. I'll lead Knives north and you can lead Chame south."

"No," Meryl said again.

Glaring at her, Clint's eyebrows lowered.

"Knives and Chame will kill each other," he repeated seriously. "Neither of them needs to die."

"They won't listen to you Clint. You won't be safe. The chances are too slim." Meryl argued.

"But there are still chances! I won't sit in here doing nothing, when I know I'm here for something!" Clint insisted. "We can stop it. Knives has always had a soft spot for me, and Chame will connect with you. We just need to play our cards right."

Meryl clenched her fists. He was just like Vash, and he would end up just like Vash! She had no idea how the poison would affect a half-breed, but she had no intentions of finding out.

"I won't watch you go to your death! You're 15!" Meryl argued loudly.

"I won't die, I—"

"Not even Vash would want you to go!"

"He never would want any-"

"Clint, Knives killed Vash!" Meryl yelled it. Half of her enjoyed ejecting the words from her mind, while the other half slithered in disappointment. She watched Clint.

The room was silent.

Vash stirred on the floor.

"You can't trust him," Meryl explained. "He killed his own brother."

"Kni-Knives?" Clint stammered.

"He's poisoned Vash," she explained with complete despair. "Vash is _dying_."

Clint was speechless; he staggered a few steps backward.

Watching him, Meryl felt like her insides had been slashed to shreds, but she didn't look away from him. The truth was out. He had to accept it.

"But Chame, it was him that- no, Knives couldn't have…Chame…" The teenager stammered.

"I was there. A full syringe was injected to his body."

About 80 of Clint still didn't believe her. His whole life he had thought it was some horrible murderous man, someone he never knew. Impossibly, Knives was suddenly the suggested murderer. Chame was supposed to be his father's killer. The virus was his concoction. Knives must have injected something else.

"No, we have to stop this." Clint continued.

With a sudden jerk, the teenager pulled the door open.

"Don't you dare!" Meryl threatened, but before she could grab him, he was out of the room and running. "He'll kill you!" Meryl yelled after him in frustration. Her footprints echoed his loudly in the hall.

Clint didn't stop. If what Meryl said was true, he already had.

….

Pausing behind Chame, Knives realized Clint was moving quickly, his plant energy too strong with emotion to be covered by pills now.

'He must have heard the news,' Knives thought.

Chame continued their journey forward without him.

"_Master_, is something wrong?" He asked, nearing the next corner.

Rade mewed back at Knives.

….

"Clint, you get back here, or I'll…"

Meryl was running after him, unable to imagine what she would do with herself if anything should happen to him, how she would never forgive herself for letting someone's son die.

Impressively, Clint knew exactly where he was going. He only had to close his eyes a few moments to better sense Knives. However, he never stopped running.

Clint's and Meryl's shadows elongated down the windowed halls and then disappeared completely when they turned.

Meryl had nearly caught up to him now, but was unable to fit her hands around any particle of him.

….

"Stop for a moment," Knives ordered.

Chame obeyed, as well as the albino cat.

Bending down, Knives picked up Rade in his flawless, bloody hands. Chame turned around and watched.

"And he was conceived white by your hands…" Knives commented with false delight.

Chame shifted uncomfortably.

"He's pretty old, isn't he?" Knives asked, holding the cat up higher as if he was going to toss it into the air like a parent would a child.

"Yes, master, and very delicate."

"Don't you think he is miserable?"

"What do… you mean?"

Baring his white teeth, Knives smirked.

Chame shifted uneasily again.

"So old with so much turmoil. His whole family is dead, and he would never fit in with the other felines looking like this. He's been genetically engineered, with peculiar attributes. The only one who survived from such wretched, twisted conditions…just like you, Matthew."

His words marked the first time Knives had ever called him Matthew to his face. Chame watched in detail now.

Rade hissed, feeling uncomfortable suspended in the air for so long.

"And soon he'll be murdered… just like you."

Pulling out his gun, Chame glared at Knives.

"Careful now," Knives taunted, bringing Rade against his chest. "You wouldn't want to hurt yourself."

"_Master_, please, put down Rade." Chame insisted, through gritting teeth. "Just leave him alone, and I'm in your service."

"Are you?" Knives' smirk widened to resemble a haunted jack-o-lantern. "Prove it."

"I let you have Vash."

"Yes…but it isn't Vash I'm after."

Chame's gray eyes scanned this monster.

"Vash is done with, and you're here to back stab me, but I beat you to it."

To Chame's disgust, Knives stroked the white cat. Rade's brittle fur rose under his fingers.

"Yes, but we're both still alive," Chame reminded.

"All three of us. Don't forget Rade." Knives insisted.

Clint was on the same floor as them, nearing with each stride. Knives knew he would arrive in moments.

Still holding Rade with one arm, Knives reached into his black overcoat and slightly lifted Chame's weapon. "Do you want this back?" He asked.

Chame studied him. "Why?"

"It's yours, you invented it."

"No, keep it," he answered with suspicion.

Knives bent down and slowly released Rade, who dashed to Chame's one open arm.

"I won't be cheap," Knives decided, slipping out the tranquilizer-like weapon. "Although, this is a game of smarts.

Keeping his gun pointed at his enemy, Chame was picking up Rade when Knives pulled the trigger.

A small dart full of Vash's DNA flew and broke the half-demon's skin.

Chame had been ready for the movement and shot a bullet into Knives' leg.

Knives staggered back in slight surprise. The pain was intense, but he had achieved his goal.

After ripping the dart from his skin and throwing it to the ground, Chame stood up with authority.

Knives' plan was done with, and now what?

Chame jammed his gun against Knives' chest. Knives didn't resist.

"A game of smarts?" Chame growled. "I created the virus, and it won't kill me anymore than it would kill Millie."

Feeling jubilant, Knives laughed.

"You're an idiot!" Chame yelled in his face, spit flying.

Knives felt blood run down his leg, but it was the most pain tolerance he had ever exercised.

"Matthew, who said it was full of the virus?" Knives smiled as he watched the confused look in Chame's grey eyes.

"What was in it?" He demanded, jamming the barrel of the gun further into Knives' flesh.

"Kill me and it dies with me, you decide."

Chame hesitated.

"Any of my former servants would be willing to die for me in a heart beat, but no, never you…"

Chame wasn't listening anymore, he was thinking very hard about possibilities of the substance, what it could be, why he would die.

"Pick it up," Chame nodded towards the empty dart.

"The _servant_ orders his _master_," Knives murmured.

The moment he moved, his leg gave out. Knives fell to the floor, but he still stretched for the small dart. Silently, he handed it to Chame, who began to examine the red tint. He held the syringe to his eyes, watching a particle of red liquid slide slowly.

"What is it?" He asked again.

Knives began to put pressure on his leg, as he watched Chame ponder.

"What is it!" The orphan yelled.

He shot Knives in the same leg, through his pale hand.

"Hep," air escaped from Knives' lungs from the pain. He gaped at his quivering hand. The pain was intense.

"It's genetics," he sputtered, "DNA. Blood."

"What kind of blood?" Chame demanded.

Before he received his answer, a familiar looking teenager and the insurance girl from earlier, raced towards them. The hair on their heads that wasn't condensed with sweat, bounced with each step. The teenager resembled both Knives and Vash strikingly. His shape, his stature, and his movements echoed the twins'. Clint slide to a halt, Meryl nearly running into him.


	27. HalfBreed

The small insurance girl was the first to react. She whipped out her gun and ejected her order.

"Put the gun down."

Chame dropped his weapon and it _clank_ed to the ground. Concern swept over his rigid face. His mind was working to fulfill the puzzle. Whose blood was it? The answer that came over him was powered by the only other person he knew Knives had met.

"Is Millie still surviving?" Chame asked the newcomers.

His question was neglected because of Clint's outbreak. After the teenager had grasped the scene— Knives hunched over on the ground, blood spilling out— he was ready to attack.

"You killed Vash!" He accused, feeling no sympathy for the mangled monster.

Knives' eyes (that had been soft for only several seconds) hardened. "I killed Rem!" He replied.

Emotion boiled in Clint. Rem? _Rem_? He didn't know much about the name, but whoever Rem was, he knew it wasn't Vash.

"Does he look like Rem to you?" Clint asked in disbelief.

"Because of Vash, and everyone he has met, she will never die." Meryl argued. Now that she was back in the presence of Vash's brother, a great surge of irritation was beginning to sweep her again.

Watching them, Knives' mind held the picture. They were very upset, mixed emotions were leaking out like his blood. Dashes of anger and sprinkles of grief were displayed throughout their whole bodies. He had destroyed the man closest to them, and Rem had died all over again.

Rem was Vash's everything growing up. She even was for Knives…but for a short while. Her values had corrupted his brother like the poison physically did now. When Rem was dead, she still lived; Vash was branded with her, always speaking like _her_. Vash was dying by Knives' hand, like Rem had. And although the two individuals had become mingled together, neither would die, they would still be living on, through space, through Gunsmoke, just as Vash couldn't escape trouble, Knives would never escape Rem.

"You'll have to kill everyone on Gunsmoke to destroy her!" Meryl continued.

Just like hate, Rem would never be eradicated…

"That _was_ the plan…" Knives snarled loudly.

Blood seeped down his pants. The hand that had been shot was twitching. His untarnished one was loosely holding Chame's weapon.

Clint had silver tears sneak out from behind his sunglasses. "You're a murderer. Right here, under my nose… for as long as I can remember you were there…and you were the one who did it!"

Vash's son was crying. His nephew was crying.

"I don't understand…why? Who the heck is Rem anyway?" The anger in Clint's voice was gone now, and the emotion of despair and disappointment set in. "Who are _you_?"

Knives didn't answer, but watched Clint's despair in silence. Who was he? Even after abandoning them, killing Vash and Chame, he still didn't know.

Chame laughed. "Who is he? Apparently you two are missing the whole idea. Like I told Millie, _he's_ where all this hate and pain on this desert planet comes from, and now you can see for yourself. He's murdered everyone! But you still don't understand. The blood on his hands is as obvious now as it has always been. He's a monster, who knows no emotion but severe persuasion, he has no values. That is who he is, hopeless, stubborn, and inhuman."

"You didn't have to do this, but you chose it anyway…" Clint said to Knives. "You're logical."

The teenager crept closer to the plant, who watched him with cold eyes.

"If logic is so much more than emotion, than why, logically, did you do it?" Clint asked.

Grabbing the teenager's shoulder, Meryl pulled him back. "_Don't_," she answered forcefully, "go by him. We're leaving, before something worse happens."

Suddenly, a rustle of movement caught Meryl's eye. Chame had grabbed his gun again. After pulling the trigger, he was running. Rade scrambled to catch up with his new plan. The cat bolted after him. Chame's bullet was shot recklessly at Knives and missed.

Meryl instinctively took a step after him and fired. Her aim was off. She had missed him. Chame was getting away, running with sufficient speed. She glanced back at Knives, hesitating.

"Where is he going?" She asked him.

"Probably to try and save himself. I have not only murdered Vash today," Knives replied icily.

His words sent discomfort down Clint's and Meryl's spines.

"Why did you do it?" Clint asked again. "Why should _you_ live?"

"Because neither of you have the strength to kill me!" Knives yelled.

"Don't test me," Meryl growled. "It's only for Vash's sake that I haven't."

"But if it is for Vash's sake, shouldn't you have attempted to murder me long ago? So he wouldn't have to endure me? Or was it for your sake so you could remain by his side?" Knives asked coldly. "If it had all been for Vash, wouldn't you have killed me by now?"

Knives studied her.

"Oh, I see." He continued. "You don't want to add your name to the list of people who have harmed him, the list of people who think… differently." He pointed out.

"No. I think, unfortunately, I had some hope for you," Meryl answered.

For a moment, a look of attack came over Knives' eyes. He glanced at Clint.

"Clint, we're leaving," Meryl declared, her eyes still focused on Knives.

"But-"

"Give me your gun Knives," Meryl interrupted the teenager.

He didn't move.

"Give it to me!" She hissed.

She was anticipating his attack. Sure any moment he would reach for his gun, aim, and pull the trigger.

Knives could have given her a bullet. She would have given him one in return. What did it matter? But after another glance at Clint, he used his good hand to push Chame's weapon to her feet, and then, very slowly, he pulled out his own black, hand gun.

Bravely, she grabbed it from him, while Clint darted for Chame's.

Vash would have insisted Knives go with them. He would have given him another chance. Meryl had no desire to extend this offer, and for the first time, neither did Clint.

"You should watch yourselves," Knives spoke. "That gun Chame has is abnormally affective on humans."

Meryl couldn't identify if his words were a caution or a threat. Silently, she pulled Clint away, leaving Knives in his blood.

….

Chame's running footsteps echoed through the deserted halls, Rade at his heels. He raced up a flight of stairs, new blood flowing in his veins. Although he was an expert in genetics, he had never considered the twists and affects of plant DNA versus human or demon.

When he reached a familiar hall, he ran directly for a room he had entered earlier. With excess force, he shoved the door open. Millie was still resting where he had last left her. She jumped at his entry.

At once, Chame's assumption that she wasn't alone was confirmed. Vash was huddled at the foot of the door. Chame knew that his virus was spreading itself easily through the plant. He stepped over the gunman, his foot grazing over the red coat.

Millie was pale, unfit for any defense. The half-demon's new concoction of bullets was working horribly well on her. Fear was behind her calm eyes. She was hiding it, but Chame knew she didn't trust him. He didn't blame her.

"You're still bleeding."

His words were not a question.

She didn't answer.

"But you haven't told her," Chame shook his head.

Rade grew closer to Millie. Mewing, he rubbed up against her leg.

Chame frowned.

"I don't have a cure for you. This wasn't supposed to happen. I may be dying too," he explained.

"Stop fighting," Millie whispered.

"No. I can never do that. But I need your help Millie, quickly, before anyone else arrives." Here, Chame paused.

Millie said nothing. Her heart was beating loudly.

Chame glanced at Vash again before he continued.

"You've been entangled in this all along."

Matthew knew his attempt to receive answers from Millie could be easily thwarted by an honest response. She had been a part of Knives and Vash for years. How much information did she have? On his run here, it had occurred to Chame that one demon had existed with the components of a plant. He had sported Vash's left arm, and he had been most chilling of all the Gung-ho-guns: Legato Bluesummers. Knives' plan, however, must have rested on the other half of him, his human half. The affects of such a mix, he had never known. Perhaps he could study them himself, but time was his concern.

Chame had the hunch that he was asking the wrong woman. His options were wavering. Millie was the only one available at the moment, and the one least resistive. The plant in the room was too incoherent.

"Millie, please, do you know anything about the existence of plant and human? How do they affect one another?"

"No," she answered softly.

Chame studied her. Her blue eyes gazed at him unfailingly. Would she be honest with him? He would have to make a bluff to know that Millie's answer was honest.

Quickly, he grabbed his gun. He pointed it to her rising and falling chest.

"What are the affects?" He demanded again. "Millie, tell me the truth!"

Finding her eyes, he glared into them. His finger moved around the trigger, when she didn't answer.

"What are they?" Chame asked again.

"I don't know," she responded automatically.

Chame studied her once more. Her answer was too precise. If her words were true, they should sound more fearful.

"Where are Meryl and Clint?" She asked bravely.

"With Knives," Chame answered.

Finally, the fear that had been hidden was leaking out into her eyes. Chame felt a small surge of satisfaction. Millie thought the other woman and the teenager were in danger. She would become more helpful by the minute.

Suddenly, with a jolt, the obvious struck Chame. His grey eyes filled with anger.

"Who is that boy?" He asked.

Millie didn't answer.

"Whose is he?" He yelled. His arm was shaking with anger, and the aim of the gun swayed across her chest. Suddenly it had become so obvious. The way the teenager walked, the way he carried himself, his physical resemblance, they were all so similar. How could it have been that Chame had never cared to give the teenager any thought? How had he been so blind?

"Tell me what he is!"

The energy, the anger, and the desperation spread through him. Without another thought, he hit Millie across the face with his free hand. She fell back.

Matthew was breathing hard again, trying to recollect everything he had ever witnessed of the teenager. But his list was short. He cursed under his breath. He knew nothing about the mysterious boy.

His eyes searched Millie again. Slowly, he began to realize what he had done. He had physically attacked her out of frustration.

He didn't have time.

"Is he a half breed?" Chame demanded. He dropped the gun and grabbed Millie's shoulders, close to her neck.

"No."

"Don't lie to me!"

His rough fingers grasped tighter. He could feel her pulse beating under her skin.

"Who are his parents?" He asked.

"I don't know. He left his mother, his father was murdered."

"By who?" Chame demanded. "By _my_ virus?"

Millie didn't answer. Chame glared at her. Finally, he let go of her and grabbed his gun. Millie watched him rush out into the hall, fuming. Rade barely exited before the door closed.

She inhaled a deep breath. Tears were beginning to leave her eyes. She had to find Meryl and Clint.

"Millie?"

This voice was quieter than Chame's, but full of slow intensity. She saw Vash struggling to get up. Taking a deep breath, he paused, kneeling with one hand on the floor for support. Blankets sloped off him, while one or two continued to cling on.

"Millie, where is Clint?" He asked, dreading her answer. "Is he here?"

"He's here, with Meryl. He went to find Knives."

Vash's free hand clenched one of the blankets. After another deep breath he stood up. To his surprise, his gun was still tucked away where it belonged.

"Chame said that they had already found him," Millie added, unsure of how much of the interrogation Vash had been coherent.

"Millie, stay here, rest and watch for them. I'll be fine."

Millie didn't believe him. When he spoke the words, he was leaning against the wall, apparently dizzy. Sweat dripped off his forehead. His eye color was fading again, turning into a vibrant, stark white.

"I need you to stay here, Millie. In case they come back. Where is your gun?" Vash asked, glancing around the room. Before she could answer, he spotted it near the boxes of blankets. He retrieved it, thankful she hadn't brought her stun gun. She would have never managed the weapon in her current condition.

"I think Meryl forgot about it." Millie explained.

Shaking, Vash handed it to her.

"Vash, are you sure you will be alright by yourself?" She asked as he was rushing to the door.

"Stay here, Millie," he said again. "You promised to do everything I say. Do you know which way they went?"

"No…"

The answer was barely out before Vash left the room, half hunched over. His mind was muddled. Everything felt indistinguishable. Death was already at his door, the only element left to lose was time. Fiercely, his heart was beating. If he would ever calm down again, he was sure his regular heart beat would feel foreign in his chest. The air he inhaled still felt like ice in his body, always colder when it was exhaled into the hallway.

Suddenly, he grasped something familiar in his mind through the murk. Millie had been right, Clint was here. He sensed him awkwardly now. Too much emotion was contained in the teenager to mask his identity. Concentrating hard, Vash latched on to it. He couldn't let it slip in his meddled mind.

Finally, his heart propelled him with new speed. He was running again, thinking only of Clint. He said the name repeatedly through his mind. Each time it rang through his consciousness, he realized he couldn't reach the teenager fast enough.

The cold pierced his insides as he heaved again. He was shaking with fatigue as he struggled to keep his speed. After he dashed down the stairs, his vision began leaving him. Spots of blindness interrupted his path. Soon, he would black out. He would have to slow down. But before he could control his pace, he fumbled on the cold floor.

His chest moved sporadically, but air wasn't reaching him fast enough. Then the burning and thrashing returned in his back. He clenched his fists, waiting for the dreaded process to occur, anticipating the moment of deformity.

Finally, it hit. His back split open, letting more abstract limbs dominate the space. One of his white wings obscured his view. As if it wasn't his own, he pushed it away. New energy was in him, if only a handful. He stumbled to his feet and began running again.

….

Meryl had to walk away from him. Walking away from Knives was the only way to decrease any fraction of the anger she had for him. When she wasn't looking into his still face, Vash's murder felt surreal.

She escorted Clint back in the direction they had come.

"I never thought he would do it," Clint broke the heavy silence.

"There's a lot about Knives you don't know," Meryl answered harshly. "He's been trying to kill Vash for decades."

Knives' actions didn't make any sense to Clint, but he didn't dare ask questions. He was afraid of the information he would receive. He was afraid of the emotions that would overcome him.

"Meryl," he spoke again. "Is it okay to be afraid to die?"

Peculiarity overcame the small insurance girl. The question was the last she expected to hear leave Clint's lips. Silently, she wondered if he would insist they go back to insure Knives' safety. What had motivated him to ask such a question?

"I think everyone is afraid, at least a little bit." She answered carefully.

His gaze found her through his sun glasses.

She frowned.

"Clint, you shouldn't worry about that. I would never let anything happen to you," she promised. She began to wonder about the effects all this violence had put on him.

"Vash is dying. He'll die sooner… than I was expecting."

Meryl looked at him inquisitively.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'm not making sense. I'm afraid."

Just then Meryl spotted a white creature a head of them in the dark. Rade mewed in their direction. Chame was coming.

"What should we do?" Clint asked her automatically.

Meryl quickly pondered. They had three guns in their hands. The demon couldn't be much of a threat if he was really after them. More than likely he had come back to finish off Knives.

"I don't think he's after us," Meryl answered.

Clint looked up at her. She knew what he was thinking. Immediately, her mind disagreed. She didn't want to go near Knives. She wanted him gone.

"I don't think I can bear to hear the gunshot knowing I could have tried to prevent it," Clint said. "Come on, Meryl, let's go get Knives. We can find out what to do with him later."

Without her consent, Meryl's mouth agreed to his idea. Clint was already turning around. In a rush, she followed him. Together, they ran back to the murderer.

Knives wasn't where they had left him. He was still hunched on the ground, but a yard of smeared blood marked his movement. He was near the end of the hall. Anger and irritation marked up his face when he saw them.

"Get away from me," he growled. He turned his body to face them.

Meryl returned his glare.

"Chame is coming," Clint explained.

"So is Vash," he responded.

Meryl and Clint exchanged looks. Both were hesitant to believe him because Clint hadn't sensed Vash personally. Then again, he wasn't supposed to meddle with such methods.

Blood was still spilling out from Knives. His cold angry eyes looked away from them.

"What do you want?" He asked.

"We aren't sinking to your level," Clint announced. "We're getting you away from Chame. Then we will split our ways."

"No." he answered.

Clint exchanged another look with Meryl. They repositioned themselves, Meryl on Knives' right side and Clint on his left. Knives watched Chame's weapon sway dangerously close to him as Clint reached down to grab Knives under his arm with his free hand.

Then Vash pierced into all of their minds, even Meryl, who recognized the odd sensation at once. Disappointment and fear filled her. All three of them froze. Clint and Meryl stared into Knives' cold eyes.

"His wings are back?" Meryl said

"He is coming," Knives told them again.

Clint and Meryl were about to hoist Knives to his feet when the albino cat rubbed up against Clint's leg. As Rade walked, he left behind red-inked paw prints on the surface of the floor. He sat down promptly in front of them, as if watching a movie for his personal enjoyment. Leisurely, his tail flicked from side to side.

Meryl felt the barrel of a gun push into the back of her skull. She didn't understand how it had happened. She hadn't even heard his footstep. Frustrated, she glared at Knives again. They were trying to save his life! Why hadn't he done them the courtesy of mentioning the arrival of his enemy?

"Give me the guns." Chame's voice sounded smooth in the silence. "All of them."

Meryl handed him Knives' black, hand gun, and then reached carefully for her own to render up. Clint watched her out of the corner of his eye. After Chame had retrieved her weapons, he emptied them of bullet. Then he dropped Meryl's to the floor and kicked it yards down the hall in the opposite direction. Knives', he threw. Clint returned his current weapon to the rightful owner. Chame pocketed it where it belonged.

Knives didn't look at them. His eyes were lost in space. Perhaps he was waiting patiently for the last gunfire. Sure, that any moment he would be lost to nothingness.

However, what happened was unexpected. Gun still pressed against Meryl, Chame grabbed Clint's upper arm and pulled him away.

Surprise crossed Meryl's and Knives' faces, but Knives' quickly changed to one of horrible understanding. His eyes moved from Clint to Matthew. The orphan had deciphered the puzzle.

Swiftly, Chame redirected his gun to Clint and backed away from the other two

"What do you want?" Meryl asked at once, struggling to stay calm. She remembered that Vash was on his way this time, but his status was unreliable.

"Nothing else," Chame replied.

Incomprehension swept Meryl's face.

"What do you want with him? He's just a kid," Meryl spoke again. Her heart was burning as she remembered her promise to keep him safe.

A deep chuckled escaped from Chame's throat. "Why don't you ask Knives?"

He was moving away from them faster now, in a rush to leave.

"What did you do?" Meryl whispered harshly. "He's innocent. He has nothing to do with this!"

Knives didn't answer. His expression was peculiar, one that Meryl didn't recognize on his pale face.

Grasping Clint tightly, Chame continued to walk backwards from them. Still holding the teenager at gunpoint, he disappeared down another hall.

"What did you do!" Meryl raged. She almost kicked the bleeding man.

Knives' eyes looked up at her. Their gaze caught her off guard. The blue was twisted into a melancholy shade.

She rushed away from him, shaking as she went to pick up her gun. His expression was still burning in her mind. She had never seen that look from him.


	28. Bondage and Links

Chame nearly threw both himself and Clint into a large, dark room.

"Turn on the lights," Chame demanded fiercely.

Clint obeyed, and to his surprise, the room lit up. The space reminded him of some sort of laboratory. Unlike the other places of the building, this room was clean and sanitized. The walls were a little dirty, but the counters looked bleach-white. Nothing was on the floor.

"What are you parents?" Chame demanded as he pushed Clint to a large cabinet located at the east side of the room.

He hesitated.

"My father was a plant. My mother is human." The teenager admitted.

Chame ripped Clint's silver sunglasses off. To his surprise, the creature's eyes were blank white orbs, similar to angel eyes. He had never these eyes permanent on anyone before. His eyebrows lowered in concentration as he beheld them. Then he remembered time was short. He needed to grab everything he could and escape.

He opened up the cabinet. Its contents were various. All the items reminded Clint of scientific research and studies. On the top shelf the plant-killing virus was bottled up in several cylinder containers. Clint's heart picked up speed and his nerves intensified.

Chame, however, reached for a syringe that was placed on the middle shelf, gun still pointed at the half-plant. As he cleaned and prepared it with one hand, he spoke again.

"Knives assumes that injecting plant DNA into my body will kill me. Do you have any idea why?"

"Yes."

The easy response surprised Chame. He unbuttoned the cuff at the end of Clint's sleeve skillfully and then pushed the fabric up the teenager's arm. Clint watched him position the needle near the underside of his elbow.

"Why?" Chame asked. He sounded less threatening now that someone was quietly cooperating with him.

Clint felt the small pinch and sting of the needle inserting into his body. He diverted his eyes from it.

"Plant genes and human genes don't coincide," he explained. "Their elements attack each other. They're opposite. They're enemies."

"But you're here," Chame stated. He pulled the blood-filled syringe away from the teenager.

"But logically, I'm not supposed to be here. I'm not supposed to exist. I'm a fluke."

Chame placed the syringe in a small container. He handed it and the lid to Clint.

"Seal that," he ordered.

Without a thought, the teenager obeyed. Chame retrieved a black backpack in the cupboard next to the cabinet. While he began emptying half the cabinet's contents one handed, placing everything in the black backpack, Clint fingered the container in his hands.

"If I tell you everything about what I am, will you let me go and leave everyone alone?" He asked.

"No," Chame answered flatly. He took the container from Clint's hands and placed it in the bag. "Get the virus on the top shelf." He ordered.

Clint had to stand on his toes to reach it. His fingers scraped the air before finding the cylinder containers. He grasped them in both hands. The liquid revolved ominously inside as he lowered them.

"Put it in the bag."

Carefully, Clint obeyed.

"Can that kill you?" Chame asked.

His tone was so simple that it made Clint feel uncomfortable as he stared at the virus.

"I'm not sure. Probably. Plant genes are dominant over human ones." He answered.

Chame grabbed a few more items from around the room, never letting his gunpoint sway from Clint. After swinging the backpack on, he grabbed Clint's arm and began escorting him out of the room harshly.

"They will never stop looking for me," Clint told his kidnapper.

Chame didn't answer.

Clint began to feel dizzy. While Chame dragged him quickly down the hall, he coughed and sputtered.

"Are you sick?" Chame asked.

Clint shook his head. As he coughed again, he reached into his pocket for his bag of pills. His slipped two in his dry mouth. They were nearly impossible to swallow now, he felt so thirsty, and Chame was moving swiftly.

"What's wrong with you?" Chame demanded loudly when Clint continued to sputter.

"Nothing," he answered hoarsely. "This is how I live."

Chame pulled the teenager closer to him as if afraid the coughing itself would come and snatch his victim away.

They walked awkwardly against each other. Clint could hear Chame's heart pulsing while Rade lurked in their wake. Their breathing was quickening. They rounded another corner, nearly to the room Clint had first occupied. Through that room they were going to exit.

With sudden force, Clint stepped in front of Chame. His plan worked. Chame tripped, but as he fell to the ground, he brought the teenager with him. His gun, however, slid ahead several feet. Both of Chame's hands clenched Clint.

Clint kicked Chame in the stomach as he struggled to free himself. He felt his enemy's fingertips clinging on to his button down shirt. Finally with a last tug, he broke free and bolted away. As he rounded the corner, he heard Chame get up, scrambling for his gun.

Clint's feet pounded on the floor. Behind, he heard Chame yelling after him. He didn't look back, not even when he heard a gun fire. Nothing hit him, he kept running.

….

After Meryl retrieved her gun, she turned around to find Knives struggling to his feet. His leg shook from the strain.

"What are you doing?" She asked darkly.

"Give me my gun."

"No," she answered flatly. Knives was the last person she was going to hand a weapon.

"I'm coming with you to find him," he explained. His tone was coarse.

"No," Meryl said again. She couldn't stand hearing the suggestion come out of him. Hatred rose up in her. "Why didn't you tell us he was coming?" She snapped. "We were trying to help you!"

Knives didn't answer. He watched her distressed stature sweep easily passed him. Slowly, he followed in her wake. He would never catch up to her.

"I can help you find him," Knives growled. Annoyance was in his voice.

"No."

Anger plummeted on Knives' face again.

"You can get to him twice as fast with my help. You won't be able to track him fast enough." He pointed out.

Disbelief and mistrust slithered in Meryl. She hesitated. His words were true, but would his actions follow suit?

"I won't even bring my gun," he added.

Sighing loudly to herself, she returned to him. She pulled his arm over her small shoulders. The physical touch seemed to feed her anger even more. She couldn't fathom him.

"Chame won't kill him," Knives said. "At least not yet."

….

Chame's footsteps died away from Clint's ears. He continued running, hoping to return where he had last seen Meryl and Knives. He had outrun his enemy. Now, he was reaching another intersection. He would need to turn right and continue through two more halls before he would reach Meryl. 'If she's still there,' he thought.

When he reached the crossroads, alarm spread over him. A figure jumped out of the darkness from Clint's left. Violently, Chame grasped onto him. Both of his arms fastened around the teenager. Clint could feel Chame's breath ruffle his hair. His gun was pressed inconveniently against the teenager's flesh. Clint wiggled in his hold, but Chame held him tightly. The half-demon had beaten him to the intersection by using a different route.

"I need you."

Chame's hot breath quickly condensed in Clint's ear.

Knives was close, and so was Vash.

With more force than before, Chame dragged the teenager down the north hall. Someone was coming. Both Chame's and Clint's eyes moved to the southern hall. The person was hunched over, moving slowly. It was only Knives.

Disappointment spread through Clint. Silently, he wondered what had happened to Meryl.

Chame was moving again, pulling Clint with him. Knives would never catch up to them, but if Chame didn't hurry, his brother might

"He won't solve your condition," Knives said. His voice rang through the hall. "You will die."

Clint resisted Chame with as much force as he could muster. Vash was nearly here. If Clint could only slow Chame down a little longer, the situation would improve.

Chame's gun wavered abnormally low and only after another surge of resistance did Clint realize his capturer was aiming to shoot his right foot. He hesitated in his resilience.

Then Vash came. Clint could hear him before he saw him. Someone was clattering down the hall on his right. The noise had no rhythm in pace. His heart hammered as he struggled against Chame, trying to get a glimpse of his father. He heaved forward, pulling Chame with him only a couple of inches. Finally, he spotted something.

White eyes pierced darkness. Vash's mouth was open as he tried to inhale oxygen into his body. Extending from his back were four white wings, stretched clumsily between the walls. On his way here, dust had clung to them. Clint spotted several patches where the feathers had been broken, ruffling up the smooth pattern. Ominous cords and bunches of oddly shaped objects accompanied the angelic wings. His silver hand gun gleamed, clasped in his fingers. His stature seemed to reach out and cling onto Clint, even though he was far from the teenager's reach.

Clint stepped back into Chame's body. He couldn't tear his eyes from the person who was coming for him. He felt chilled and naïve. Suddenly, gut-wrenching fear enveloped him. He had been expecting Vash's entrance to be spectacular, but instead the outlaw's movement was spine tingling. His father's fatigue only added to the haunting flare. The unbalanced, hunched stature he carried and the staggering footsteps he moved with seemed to belong to someone else—to anyone perhaps, but not to Vash.

Chame's reaction was unexpected. When Vash was in their sight, he appeared to forget escaping with Clint. A small smirk of pleasure stretched over his face. His virus was at work.

"Vash the Stampede in all his glory." Chame's voice was almost a whisper. "Don't be afraid of _him_," he told Clint. "He's here to rescue you."

The words felt ironic to Clint, surreal.

"It's natural for the plant to experience this state after becoming infected. When his body is pushed too far, he is forced into this transformation. I'm surprised he hasn't blacked out again. He still has a few months before he is taken from you." Then Chame's voice dropped to a whisper. "You can thank Knives for the extra time. He went easier on him than I had anticipated."

Clint glanced at Knives. Imagining him as Vash's murderer was becoming less difficult.

Vash raised his sliver hand gun. After seeing his current condition, Clint had the impression that such a small weapon would be unnecessary. The outlaw's eyebrows lowered, angling his blank eyes into an expression of anger. Such resentment was one Clint had never seen on that halcyon face.

"Let go of Clint!" He yelled. The volume of the words was impressive, as if he hadn't been out of breath at all. His voice was steady and demanding.

Chame's arms that were strapped around Clint tightened. The barrel of his gun was pressed into the teenager's temple. By now Clint was nearly positive Chame had no intention of killing him. Considering the circumstances, he was sure he would be more worth to Chame alive. Less vital places of his body were more likely to become Chame's target.

"I hardly think you are in a condition to control the circumstances," Chame answered, calmly.

Vash's white eyes narrowed.

Chame began traveling again, backwards so that he could keep his eye on Vash. Clint was tucked against him, thinking fast. He felt the strap of Chame's backpack rubbing uncomfortably against the back of his head. Clint began trying to aim his foot under Chame's again, more hesitant now that the gun was pointed directly against his head. A reckless tumble could be fatal. Catching this, Chame readjusted Clint. They were walking side by side as Chame carefully moved his feet across the ground. Clint saw the backpack out of the corner of his eye. The two zippers were flopping with each step. He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing.

Quickly, he went for the bag. A gun shot went off as it split open. Contents scattered to the floor. Clint wasn't sure where the bullet had gone, but it hadn't been his head. He was still living. He was struggling to free his hand from Chame's grasp when Meryl appeared out of nowhere. As Chame aimed his gun at her, Clint broke free, colliding with the floor from his force. Another gunshot went off. Clint heard something hit the floor. He raised his eyes and found drops of blood sprinkling down from above him. Chame's forearm was bleeding; his gun was on the floor. Red liquid was smeared on its charcoal surface.

Chame grabbed Meryl, who shot again and missed his flesh. She struggled to aim her gun at him once more. Chame had her arm in his grasp, twisting it with his left hand. Her fingers clenched resiliently onto her gun.

Vash watched them tangle. Chame's injured arm did little to slow him. He was still using it to keep Meryl at bay. Vash felt a new jolt of fear overcome him. He aimed his gun at the thrashing pair, but it was no use. Chame and Meryl were locked against each other. The only chance he had of shooting Chame alone was by sending a bullet through his head.

The villain slammed her against the wall, pinning her small body. Meryl felt her head hit the hard surface. She couldn't let go of her gun. She was determined to keep it out of Chame's possession. Splotches of Chame's blood ran down her blouse as his arm pressed into her. He was still trying to free the gun from her hand.

Vash saw her struggling against him. Clint was on the floor. Suddenly fear grasped the outlaw, demanding him to take action. His heart fluttered as he darted for the brawling pair.

Clint began crawling for the charcoal gun on the floor behind him. One of the containers that had held Chame's plant-killing virus had broken. He spotted the liquid trickling out onto the floor. He changed direction when someone of huge stature stepped over him. A warm, red coat brushed briefly over his back. A broken feather landed by his hand.

Vash was behind Chame. Now, with the sudden surge of energy and panic, he moved easily, almost without thinking. He dug his left hand into Chame's shoulder and forcibly ripped him off of Meryl. In the process, Chame's hand had caught onto Meryl's gun, clinging onto it tightly. The weapon slipped from Meryl's clasp and Chame clumsily turned it through his fingers, trying to get his left hand on it accurately. It went off, shooting nothing.

Chame felt Vash's prosthetic grasp digging painfully into his skin. He whirled around to face the plant. Pinning Meryl's gun into Vash's chest, he pulled the trigger. A small click sounded, but nothing else happened. The gun was out of ammunition.

A stroke of fear crossed Chame's eyes as Vash trapped him against the wall just as he had with Meryl. The useless gun in Chame's hand still pressed against the outlaw's chest.

Breathing hard, Meryl grabbed Chame's gun and clambered to Clint.

Chame felt painfully cramped. He stared into Vash's bright, white, angry orbs. He could feel his opponent's chest rise and fall quickly through the movement of Meryl's empty gun.

"I need him to live," Chame told the outlaw tersely. "I'm going to die without him!"

"I can't let you take him."

Chame could feel the plant's icy breath on his face. The perspiration on his skin chilled.

"I'm sorry." Vash answered.

Chame glared at the outlaw.

"Then my death lies on your conscious."

He awaited the outlaw's reaction, but his expression was unreadable, unmoved.

Fear and anger still resided in Vash as he took in his opponent's words. He rolled possibilities in his mind, each one being shot down by the emotions burning in his chest. He couldn't afford to trust Chame. The innocent life saved was worth his personal cost.

As Chame's grey irises moved to Clint and Meryl, Vash saw the two reflected on his eyes.

"Leave and don't come looking for him," Vash ordered.

Chame's gaze returned to the outlaw at once.

Pointing his handgun against Chame's chest, Vash took the deadly tranquilizer like weapon from him. Slowly, he removed his grip from the half-demon.

Chame slid away from the outlaw, his back grazed the wall behind him. He glanced over his scattered belongings across the floor. The virus was still dripping out of its container. Gingerly, he grabbed the handful of items that hadn't been affected, including Clint's blood. Then he looked into Clint's white eyes. Dizziness suddenly swept through him.

"I want you to leave," Vash said again.

Chame's eyes remained focused on Clint. The teenager returned his stare with uncertainty.

"Don't underestimate me." Vash yelled. "LEAVE!"

Although his body was beginning to quiver uncontrollably again, Vash kept his aim on Chame. He was willing to shoot if Chame tried anything rash.

Finally, his opponent's grey eyes broke away from Clint. Chame beckoned Rade and glanced at the three of them again. Vash's shivering body was framed by his dirty, white wings. His gun was still outstretched. The teenager was with the woman, who was holding him close to her. Chame's charcoal-colored weapon was in her grasp, pointing at its owner. All of their eyes were on him unfailingly. Vash's angry eyes both resembled and contrasted the teenager's soft, white ones. The woman's dark eyes looked authoritative. Then Chame turned away. Rade at his heels, he walked in the other direction, down the dark hall Clint had formerly come from.

Vash, Meryl, and Clint watched him for several yards, before quietly turning away. Meryl's eyes scanned for Knives, but to her slight surprise, he was gone. Silently, she wondered if Vash would insist they find him.

"Keep Clint in between us." Vash ordered.

"Vash, you should probably rest here for a few minutes," Meryl pointed out.

"No," he disagreed at once, "I've left Millie by herself, and Chame knows exactly where to find her."

"Then let me help you," she insisted.

"No! I want Clint to stay in the middle! Chame could be planning another attack."

His tone was harsh and Meryl immediately fell silent.

The strong surge of energy and panic was beginning to decrease in Vash. He was feeling fatigued again and freezing cold. Stiff, he crossed the hall to them. Without another word, they turned the corner.


	29. Escape to Lament

Walking through the halls felt heavy and monotonous. Even though Vash was quivering, Clint sensed his determination. He was eager to get back to Millie, and to get everyone out of the building and town. He had failed. They had all failed.

Clint felt his insides clench.

He looked up at Vash. Sweat was flushing from his face, landing heavily on the floor. One of his tattered wings brushed against the wall. His image was ominous.

This was what it was to be a plant.

Vash staggered, drooped, and heaved.

Finally, it had hit Clint. This was why his parents had kept so much from him. This was in his blood. Suddenly, that thrill of finding out his father's secrets and conquests, his stories and origins, had fleeted from him. The adrenaline and excitement ran dry. All along the plant species was more frightening then even he had imaged. Vash wasn't human. He didn't belong. Clint knew this, but now that he was seeing the effects running through the ancient gunman and the haunting, mutated image, he realized why Vash tried to keep plants far from Clint's mind.

This wasn't paradise.

What would his father say now? Clint wondered. When would he demand to know what motivated Clint to come here? All the teenager had to answer was a lame note of intuition, of some idiotic dream of some woman he had never met in a place he had never seen. How could he have messed up so terribly?

Clint frowned.

Or perhaps he had just been too late. If he had left when the woman had first commanded him to, would this have turned out differently?

As if the gunman had been reading Clint's guilty mind, his arm latched around the teenager. A little of the Vash's weight fell on him, mimicking the weight Clint felt inside.

//Don't worry.//

Clint looked up at Vash again. His conscious picked him up easily, but he could think of no reply, nor did he want to risk his personal physical condition.

Finally, they reached the room. Millie was still in there, completely alone. Inside, Vash voluntarily fell to the ground, his chest pumping violently. He closed his eyes.

"Millie, how are you?" Meryl asked at once. The small insurance girl went to her partner's side.

"I'm okay," she answered.

"Let me see," Meryl commanded. She put Chame's gun down on the floor as she knelt.

Gingerly, Millie sat up. A Gasp escaped Meryl's lips.

"Millie, you're bleeding again!" Meryl said in horror.

"You said I would for while."

"Yes a little, but not like this!"

As Meryl carefully unwrapped the bandages, familiar panic rose in her again. Millie's wound looked worse than originally, like the skin and flesh around it were being eaten away.

"I've never seen a bullet do this." Meryl said, alarmed. She reached for Chame's charcoal gun again. Cautiously, she emptied it of the remaining bullets. "What are these? More of his inventions?"

Clint peered over Meryl's shoulder and then at Millie's wound.

"It looks like something in it is acidic," He noted.

Meryl handed the bullets to Clint.

"Put them somewhere safe," she demanded.

Clint reached his hand into his pocket. After retrieving the small bag, he emptied it of the remaining white pills. He stuffed them in his mouth and filled the empty bag with Chame's bullets. Meryl worked to redress Millie's red wound.

Vash stole Clint's attention when his four, white wings flopped down. Somehow, it appeared that they were retracting back into him. His father's white eyes opened and found Clint's gaze. Clint watched him in silence. Slowly, Vash's eyes were darkening. The ring shape in the middle was turning into sea-green.

Meryl was indecisive. She had to get Millie to a hospital, but Millie was in no condition for the journey. If they waited, would her wound get better or worse? Likely the latter.

Meryl tried to keep her panic out of her voice.

"Millie is in no condition to leave. The closest hospital is iles away from here."

Clint heard the despair in her voice.

"But we can't just sit here!" He told her. "Knives or Chame could come back, and for all we know, Millie could just get worse."

Meryl pursed her lips. The journey could be lethal, but it was their best option. Currently, they had nearly all the weapons in their possession. Both Knives and Chame were wounded. Her main concern was transporting Millie, and then Vash.

"Clint."

Vash's voice was drained. Hearing it made Clint realize how tired he felt. The teenager looked down into Vash's aqua eyes. The outlaw's face was still on the floor. His left cheek pressed against the ground.

"Heal her."

"What?" Clint asked, his heart picking up speed again. He wondered if he had heard Vash incorrectly.

"You're half plant, so you can regenerate yourself and others, but because you are half human, you can help Millie."

Was that safe? Was Vash right? Maybe Clint would only hinder Millie because he was half plant, and plants weren't meant to coincide with humans.

"But I don't know how," Clint said, alarmed. "Vash, I've never done _anything_ like that before."

"Don't worry," Vash answered calmly. "I will help you."

The outlaw took one, last, deep breath before slowly pulling himself up to a kneeling position. His vision blurred. Then he shook his head.

"You're just going to have to listen to me," he told Clint. Defeat rushed over him as he inhaled more freezing oxygen. He put his left hand back on the floor to stabilize himself. "Put your hands on her."

Clint went to Millie feeling surreal.

"Where?" He asked.

"Anywhere."

Shaking, he found Millie's arm. When her blue eyes found his, he felt suddenly sheepish.

"Relax," Vash told him.

Relaxation felt impossible. He had no idea what he was doing and the idea of the plant-like abilities surging through his body nerved him. The unknown feeling was haunting.

"Relax, Clint. It's easier if you relax." Vash said again. Clint could tell he was trying to sound soothing. He kept his voice steady and uninterrupted. "Don't hide away from what you are. It's normal. It's easy, just like breathing. You're alive, feel that life in your bones. Sense it, and just let it grow, spreading easily through your arms, continuing out your hands."

Clint closed his eyes, hoping to better control his irrational emotion. It didn't work. All he saw was bright, white eyes and slithering cords. He pushed the disturbing images away. Vash said it was just like breathing, but was being afraid of housing that plant-like feeling really irrational? After viewing Vash in such a distorted way? The images wouldn't leave him. Like ghosts, faceless, angel-formed plants swept through his mind, occasionally intervened by an image of Knives or Vash.

He opened his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Meryl asked leaning in closer.

"Nothing," he lied automatically.

He could tell she didn't believe him, but he remained silent.

"Don't think about it," she said.

"Think about what?"

"Whatever you are thinking about. Think about home or something less stressful."

The word _home_ did nothing for Clint. He felt even more fear when he caught himself wondering if there even was a home for him anymore. Redirecting his thoughts, he started thinking about Millie and about how much she needed his help right now. He could finally make a difference somewhere.

Then, his life seemed to bloom. His whole being blossomed and grew until it surged out his hands. At once he could sense Millie, who wasn't even a plant, her life and her damage. He could feel his blossoming life leave him, and dizziness sinking in to replace it.

He let go. To his pleasurable surprise, Meryl grabbed him and kissed him on the head.

"See?" Vash asked quietly. "It's easy."

Millie wasn't whole, but she was well enough to reach safety.

Exiting the old building felt dream-like. They heard no one drifting through the halls anymore. Chame, Rade, and Knives were undetectable. At one time Meryl spotted a smear of red, but she remained silent. Anger slithered in her again, followed by a hot prick in her eyes. Even if Knives had helped her find Clint, she would never forgive him for firing the bullet that would soon murder Vash.

Outside was even quieter. Their footsteps were muffled in the dirt.

"How did you get here?" Clint asked Meryl. He knew her bus would not have come by this way.

"I rented a car," she answered. "It's only a half ile from here."

Inside the steaming vehicle, Vash drifted in and out of consciousness, like ocean waves up on the shore: rolling and receding, smooth and constant.

"Don't worry," Meryl whispered in his ear. "Just rest."

Her hand grabbed his.

And then his mind slide away to soporific oblivion.

Clint remained silent most of the drive. He watched the sky beginning to darken outside the vehicle. He felt sick. Not because of his blood mixture, but out of fear. Vividly, he remembered Chame's arms enclosed around him, his humid breath in his ear.

_"He still has a few months before he is taken from you."_

Months? Was that an accurate estimation? Adding up the math, nothing fit with his life. His father had lived for _years_, not months. Something wasn't right about that… something had changed. Somehow he had changed it. He had been the only altering factor that he knew.

Feeling nauseous, he interrupted the silence.

"Meryl," he asked. "Do you love Vash?"

Her dark eyes met his white ones in the rearview mirror.

"Yes," she answered.

He wanted to tell her his story now. For some unknown reason, Vash hadn't disclosed it to her. He hesitated, and pushed the urge away. He was sure the outlaw had a significant reason to keep it secret so long.

"He reminds me a lot of my dad," Clint said lamely.

Meryl didn't answer right away. Her fingers laced more tightly with Vash's, and she continued to drive single-handed.

Millie let out a small snore, loud enough only for Clint, who was sitting next to her, to hear.

"There's nothing you could have done to stop it, Clint." Meryl said. "Nothing you could have done to stop it from happening to your father and nothing you could have done to stop it from happening to Vash."

"But what if there was?" He asked immediately. The question was burning to get out of him as he remembered the woman from his dream.

"You had nothing to do with this, so stop blaming yourself. You just got dragged into this mess," she answered.

"I was in it before I met you," he argued. "And how can you tell me to stop blaming myself if you're blaming yourself too? That's not fair."

Meryl fell silent, and he knew he had hit her thoughts right on. He knew how she worked.

"Maybe if I had come earlier-"

"Knives has been trying to kill Vash for over a hundred years. Vash wouldn't kill him. Maybe it was just a matter of time," Meryl said heavily as if trying to convince herself as well as the teenager sitting behind her.

"I know he cared about Vash… somewhere," Clint answered in a small voice.

When the words left his mouth, Meryl felt a fleeting feeling of anger again. Knives was a good liar. Clint didn't know; he hadn't been there to see what happened. She suppressed her emotions. Nearly a minute passed in silence before she let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry, Clint," she answered. "He still has a while. Maybe we can find a cure."

He knew her words were meant to cheer him, but the sense of urgency and reality only sunk into him more deeply.

When they finally reached Mosello, the sky was dark, nearly black. Vash was awake again, but silent as he stared out of the passenger window

"We'll get Millie to the hospital, and then find a hotel for Vash," Meryl broke the silence.

"The hotel next to _Elm's market_. It's called _Ace_," Vash spoke.

Meryl glanced over at him inquisitively.

"That's where I want to go."

No one disagreed.

….

When Clint woke up the next morning, the world was oddly quiet. He had slept straight through the night, and when he glanced over at the bed parallel to his, he was confident Vash had also. The outlaw was almost entirely covered by his blankets. The only skin Clint could find was half of his face. His eyes were still closed.

Clint rolled over on his back, and stared up at the texture of the ceiling. Its design was almost indistinguishable in the dim light. Strips of sunlight crept in around the edges of the curtains, one extending out onto the ceiling.

He found it easy to remember why he had woken up feeling so horrible. Vash was dying, and his brother had shot him.

As far as Clint knew, Meryl was still at the hospital with Millie. He wasn't sure of her condition.

The woman with long dark hair that had appeared in Clint's dreams the other night hadn't visited him again. Realizing this only dampened his spirits more, if possible.

After several more minutes, he pulled himself away from the bed and entered the bathroom. When he flipped the light switch, the brightness stung his eyes. He turned the faucet to heat the water for a shower. The mirror caught his attention as he pulled away. He stared at his worn expression. To his surprise, he looked different. His button-down shirt was tattered, and had a few dark splotches on its worn, white surface. The roots of his hair were dulled from grease and sweat. But what caught his eyes was his person. _He _looked tattered and worn. He looked older.

Unsure of his opinion on his sullen appearance, he turned away and began to undress.

He stayed in the shower longer than necessary. The hot water felt good as it washed over his body. He was thankful for the packets of soap the hotel provided, but was disappointed when he turned off the water and realized he had to redress in his dirty clothes. He shook them out before slipping them back on.

He jumped when he left the bathroom and found Meryl sitting on the edge of his unmade bed. A white bag was in her grasp.

"Sorry," she apologized after catching his surprise.

"Don't worry about it. I didn't hear you come in," he answered. He remembered Meryl had kept the second key to the room.

At the same time, Clint asked about Millie as Meryl asked about Vash. Meryl answered first.

"The doctor isn't sure what's wrong, but he sent the bullets in for examination. In the mean time, he's stitched her up. He sounds confident in her health."

"That's good news," Clint answered, but his voice had little joy. "Vash has been out since we put him in that bed." He nodded to the occupied mattress.

Meryl looked over at the gunman, who was still bundled and sleeping.

"I wonder how long he will sleep," she said.

Clint watched her gaze, which slowly broke away.

"I brought you some food. You're probably starving," Meryl concluded.

She handed the white bag to Clint. Inside were two sealed bowls of hot soup.

"Thanks," he mumbled. He wasn't hungry, but he knew it was important to eat.

Steam rose from the container when he lowered his plastic spoon into the liquid. He swirled it idly before taking the first sip. He was surprised how delicious it tasted and how relieving it felt after it rushed down his throat.

Meryl didn't say anything while he ate, leaving both of them to their uneasy thoughts.

Without planning on it, Clint ate all of his soup.

"I have to go buy some stamps. I'll pick up some more snacks and food too," Meryl finally said. "Keep an eye on Vash. I'll be back in a few hours."

Clint nodded in agreement. He watched her leave and then slumped restlessly on his bed again. He didn't feel like doing anything, but doing nothing obligated his mind to explore his sore emotions. After what felt like an hour passed, he carefully peeked out the window. People were walking, shopping, and talking. All of them looked busy and preoccupied. He watched one small girl skip ahead of her mother. Her ponytail swayed with each movement. Carelessly, she twirled around at the corner of a market and then called back to her mother.

"What are you looking at?"

Clint turned his head to find Vash's eyes open, but the lower half of his face was still hidden behind the blue covers.

"Nothing," Clint answered. He broke away from the window.

"We're in the middle of a city, and nothing is out there?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. Just stores and people." He sat down on his bed again, across from Vash. "They're doing what they do everyday."

"Good."

Clint was unaware of the up surge of emotion that Vash's answer had caused until it was already out of his mouth.

"Good?" He repeated. "They don't even know what has happened. Yesterday was just like the day before yesterday and then the day before that to them. They are all oblivious to everything that happened to us yesterday—everything that we stood up for and everything we lost. All they are doing is going to work and shopping."

Finally, Vash lowered the covers slightly.

"But that's what makes the battle worth fighting."

"Yesterday was a complete waste. For all we know, both Chame and Knives could have died, or they could both be alive." Clint paused. "And I'm not sure which would be worse."

When Vash didn't speak, he continued.

"Everything probably would have turned out better if we had just left it between those two."

"Do you think either of them would have stopped after one of them had been murdered?"

Clint didn't answer. Even though he felt compelled to continue his argument, he knew Vash needed rest. Silence intertwined them.

"I just think it would have turned out better if none of us had gone." Clint answered steadily.

"Why did you go?" Vash asked.

Clint knew the question was bound to come up, but he hadn't been expecting it so suddenly. He couldn't discern Vash's opinion on the matter. He sounded neither mad nor thankful.

"It was a stupid idea."

"I don't believe that," Vash answered. "Whatever made you so determined must have been compelling."

"I was dreaming." He shrugged.

To Clint's surprise, the outlaw's eyes flickered curiously at his words.

"Someone told me to go find you in my dream. When I woke up, I didn't think anything about it and went back to sleep, but the same woman was in my dream again, and she insisted that I go. When I woke up again, I grabbed my wallet and some pills, and then left. Ironically, I caught a bus that was passing that way. It broke down near Brooklin." Now that it had left his mouth, the story sounded even more ridiculous.

"What did she look like? Did she tell you her name?" Vash asked quietly.

"She had dark, long hair. I've never seen her before. I don't know her name," Clint answered, surprised.

Vash's eyes wandered to the textured ceiling.

"Her skin was unusually smooth," Clint added. "Has this happened to you?"

Slowly, Vash's gaze landed back on Clint.

"I promised you something before I left," Vash said. "That I would tell you everything. No more secrets."

Clint felt suddenly alert, awake.

"It's a long story," Vash told him apologetically.

"Does it start with Meryl?" Clint asked.

"Uh… no… It started with Rem Saverem."

Clint recognized both names at once, but had never heard them strung together. He felt lost already, and Vash hadn't even started.

Sensing Clint's confusion, Vash explained. "I wasn't born with a legitimate last name, so when I came here, I adopted hers."

His answer helped Clint, but also added many more questions to his list. Slowly more answers came with more questions, as Vash continued recounting and explaining important aspects of his life. He talked about the SEEDS ships, the betrayal of Knives, meeting Meryl and Millie, Wolfwood, and the man named Legato, who he personally murdered. Before Clint could ask a question, a new one entered his mind. At first he found difficulty in keeping certain events straight, but slowly he strung the story together. Vash lightly grazed over several aspects, while others he explained in detail.

Clint forgot about the other bowl of soup until the long discussion was finished. By now the food was cold. While he tried to come up with a way to warm it, his mind tried to digest everything about Vash the Stampede. Before he could focus his thoughts, the outlaw had drifted back to sleep.

Clint didn't wake him. He had hundreds of emotions running through him.

Minutes later, Meryl returned with three grocery bags.

"Has he been asleep the whole time?" She asked, eyeing the full bowl of soup.

"No," Clint answered stiffly.

He heard Meryl opening and searching several drawers before she came to his side.

"Here," she said.

Clint took a pad of paper and a pen from her hands. The paper had the hotel logo printed on the top, followed by a blank space.

"Write a letter to Millie's brother so he knows you're safe and with us. Then write one to your mom, so she knows you're still alive." Meryl dictated.

As Clint began his first task, Meryl picked up Vash's red coat, which was lying in a pile on the floor. Idly, she fingered the shredded fabric along the hole found in the back. Then she propped it up on a chair.

She wandered to Vash's bedside, letting her eyes linger on his sleeping face. She spotted something silver below his eyelids. A few microscopic drops clung onto the outlaw's eyelashes, and a silvery smear resided below them. Gently, Meryl brushed her finger over the wetness. The substance smeared radically. She rubbed it through her finger tips.

She looked up at Clint, who was busy writing his first letter.

"What is it?" He asked, sensing her glance.

She let her hand drop to her side.

"It's nothing."

…

The next few days felt long and restless. Clint was almost entirely confined to the hotel room, while Meryl went from their room, to the hospital, to the store, and to her hotel room (which was next door). She mailed Clint's letter to Millie's brother, but when she asked about the one to his mother, he insisted he wasn't finished with it yet.

Clint felt excess relief when Millie's condition improved. Finally, when she was released from the hospital, he was granted the opportunity to leave the melancholy room more regularly. Vash continued to sleep excessively.

"Maybe since the doctor found a way to help me, we will be able to find a cure for Vash," Millie told Clint one afternoon. They were sitting at an ice cream parlor, just down the street from the hotel. Clint was sporting Vash's yellow sunglasses again.

Clint stirred his mint–flavored ice cream.

"Maybe," he said. "But plants are so different."

He didn't want to trample the hope in Millie's voice. His answer was an understatement. He knew no cure existed.

….

In the hotel, Vash was waking again. By the strips of light sneaking through the curtains, he could tell midday had just passed. He was used to waking up to Clint looking restless, but when he scanned the room, he spotted Meryl instead. She was sitting on Clint's bed, bent over a paper that was on the nightstand. Her left hand was resting on it, naked. Her other was articulating a pen across the paper.

Vash watched her move it across the page. Her lowering eyelids covered most of her dark eyes as she gazed down at the forming words. But from his angle, Vash could see a sliver of them just below the eyelashes. They moved back and forth with her hand. Several strands of loose hair fell down her face, hiding narrow areas of skin. When too many suddenly released and obscured her vision, she brushed them back with her left hand, tucking some behind her ear.

For some reason, she looked more beautiful than Vash had ever seen her before, as if all of the other times he had seen her, it had been through tainted glasses. He didn't move. He didn't break his eyes away from her. He felt like he was seeing her for the first time, with nothing in between them, and no spaces to obscure their identities.

Her body rose when she inhaled and released when she exhaled a sigh.

Meryl put her pen down. Once it was stable on the nightstand, she sensed the outlaw's gaze on her. She looked up at him. Vash's top half of his body was poking out of the blue covers. His aqua eyes were staring at her unfailingly. A peculiar expression occupied his face.

She stared back unsure of what to say first. She hadn't spoken to him since they had gotten the hotel room. She had been so busy with Millie's condition and buying essentials for everyone, and Vash had slept extensively. Now that he awake with her, his condition suddenly felt inevitable. When he was asleep, everything felt surreal.

As his eyes penetrated her, she felt her stomach clench. Complicated emotions rose up in her again.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

"Good," he answered quietly

His answer was simple and uninformative. Meryl wasn't surprised, but it made the situation hard to decipher. She didn't know what to say next.

"Clint's with Millie," she blurted.

He continued to stare at her with that peculiar expression.

"You look beautiful today," he told her quietly.

Meryl felt herself blush during the now thick silence, but Vash didn't seem to care. His eyes never left her.

"Really? I've been so busy," she finally answered. Her eyes diverted to the pen as she continued to talk. "Clint wrote Millie's brother to tell him that he was safe and I mailed it off the other day. Then I had to fill out a bunch of papers for Millie. The doctor wanted to know—"

"Meryl?"

She stopped. Her eyes snapped back to him at once. His voice was still quiet, but rang through the room.

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

She stared back into his clear, innocuous, green eyes.

"What?" She asked, wondering if she had heard him wrong. Her heart skipped a beat.

She hadn't. Finally, Vash's eyes diverted away from hers.

"You said I had to ask permission if I ever intended to," he answered.

"When did I say that?" She asked.

"When we were at the orphanage," he said, still avoiding her eyes.

"No, I meant if you were going to pretend to kiss me," she gave him a small smile.

He didn't catch it. He wasn't looking at her.

"Vash…"

He heard her get up off of the parallel bed. He didn't move. He left his body how it was. His head was still resting on the white pillow.

She placed her hand on his cheek, and his eyes returned to hers immediately. Her skin felt warm on his chill face. He couldn't look away from her eyes even if he had wanted. He was content now that he saw her calmness. However, his heart sped up when she came closer to him. Her eyes began to close. Soon, she was so close, that keeping his eyes open was useless, everything was out of focus. He shut his into the dark.

Finally, he felt her warm lips against his. She was kissing him. The tips of her fingers stretched out into his hairline, disturbing the strands of spiky blond hair. Without any worry, without any more thoughts, he kissed her back. Now that he was finally expressing himself to her, he didn't want to stop.

He felt reluctant when she pulled away from him.

They stared at one another in silence. Vash's skin was beginning to warm under Meryl's palm. She had waited for that moment for so long. The after effects still swirled in her chest.

"Thank you," he told her.

Meryl felt his cold breath on her skin.

She couldn't suppress a smile, and Vash contagiously reflected it. She looked away from him.

"Is there anything else you need?" She asked.

"Yes," he answered. Readjusting himself, he put his arm around her in an awkward hug, pulling her closer.

Meryl could hear his heart beating as she buried her head in his chest.

"I don't want you following me anymore," Vash whispered.

Confused, she tried to decipher his words.

"I want you to stay here, beside me."


	30. What it's Worth

"Wake up you sleepyhead," Vash kicked Clint's bed.

Clint rolled around. Pulling the blankets closer to him, he provoked the snugness and warmth. He didn't even bother to open his eyes.

"Clint, you're going to miss it." Vash whined. "Get up."

"Miss what?" He mumbled, irritated.

"Come see. I've already knocked on Meryl and Millie's door…" He glanced at the clock stationed near the bed. "Three minutes ago. It's a surprise." Vash said persuasively.

Groggily, Clint slowly opened his eyes.

"That's it," Vash insisted.

Vash was looking his best yet. His body had slowly adjusted to some of his new symptoms. He was still under recovery, but one that would never be fully complete. He slept less now, but grew tired quickly. When he became too chilled, he developed a cough.

"Just a little faster." The outlaw coaxed.

"What time it is? Vash, I'm still really tired…" The teenager responded quietly. He tried to blink sleepiness away, but it increased by the second.

"That doesn't matter, come on."

Vash dragged him out the door and into the chill air.

"It's still dark!" Clint exclaimed, loudly.

Millie and Meryl were outside too, like Clint, still in their pajamas. Millie was even wrapped up in a blanket. Clint looked longingly at the door he had just left, remembering the warmth and comfort found inside.

"There's a reason I chose this hotel," Vash said with invigoration. "It faces the sunrise."

Clint rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"Look at the stars…" Vash insisted. His hands gripped the railing in front of them.

"Vash-" Meryl started.

"Sh. Just look for a moment."

She fell silent and looked up. Glittering, the stars littered the sky, accompanied by a moon in several locations. Immediately, she spotted the fifth, hanging in the north. So much had happened since the night it had been damaged, she remembered how horrible she had felt when Bernardeli first released her from her job.

"They're light years away," Vash said. "And somehow we can see them from here. For all we know, they could be burned out by now, but we will still see the light shining for years. It's amazing…"

Clint looked up into the dark sky. Apparently, Vash had been born up there… somewhere. Space had always been intriguing. Were there any other SEED ships that had landed on distant planets? Were there people living there?

After several minutes passed, Millie began pointing out several constellations. Vash added a few to the list. Clint couldn't find hardly any of them. He had a difficult time detecting the shapes and animals they made.

Then the sky started losing stars, moons, and darkness.

"And then it just begins to disappear…until night again…" Vash said.

"Day break," Meryl observed.

The sunrise picked up speed. They had to watch it carefully to catch everything, sometimes pointing out what they liked, and Vash making small comments about how enthralling it was, that everyday of their lives, the suns had risen—somewhere.

When dashes of periwinkle, pink, orange, and yellow had finally come to an end at blue, Vash spoke again.

"It's amazing that no matter how dark it is, we always expect the suns to rise. It happens everyday, so we take it for granted. I think sometimes we get too busy to appreciate it."

A breeze swept by, making Vash shiver. His body retained cold much easier than heat.

Meryl looked up at him. She bit back her tangled emotions. His words felt bitter sweet.

….

For once, Vash was disappointed he wasn't renting a house. Because he couldn't make the other three breakfast, he treated them by taking them to a nearby restaurant. He ordered a heaping plate full of waffles topped with powdered sugar, and insisted that everyone eat as much as they could.

"No, Vash," Meryl argued. "I couldn't possibly eat anymore. I'll be sick."

Vash pushed her remaining waffle closer to her face. She was so full that just looking at its squared ridges made her feel sick.

"There's only one left, and I'm paying for it, eat it."

"I'm full."

"Is you're stomach so full it's poking out?" Vash asked.

"Yes."

Vash peered over the table at her middle. The petite belly had hardly changed.

"No it's not!" He argued, and pushed the plate closer. Part of it was hanging over the table's edge. "You could fit at least three more…"

"I'll pay for it, but I'm not eating it." Meryl argued.

"What? No, eat it, and enjoy the feeling." Vash said at once.

"The feeling of struggling to fit in my skirt? I think I'm just fine."

"Please, just eat it."

Meryl looked up into his eyes. The outlaw had already forced Clint and Millie to finish their waffles, and she had a feeling she would thwart the gunman unsuccessfully.

Slowly, she forced the remaining waffle down, taking a sip of water after each bite. By the time she was done, she felt nauseous, and could hardly stand another moment in front of any food.

She went outside before Vash had even paid the bill.

People were busy again today.

When Meryl wasn't in company with the others, unidentifiable emotions washed over her.

She watched several groups of strangers rush passed her before the other three had joined her. Her creeping thoughts retreated again.

"Next, we need to go shopping," Vash announced.

Meryl looked up at him curiously.

"Clint needs a new wardrobe," he explained. "I can't send him home looking like this."

Meryl followed his gaze to the teenager. His outfit was completely frayed. Although it had gone through the public washer, it still looked like a mess. Dark stains occupied his button-down shirt, and two holes at the knees had formed in his pants.

"Oh, can I buy something too?" Millie asked.

Before Meryl could answer, Vash took the liberty.

"Of course!"

"Don't get anything expensive," Meryl advised at once. "Bernardeli isn't back up yet and we aren't getting any pay checks anytime soon."

"Don't worry about it," Vash insisted.

Meryl could tell by the look in his eyes that he was planning to pay for whatever Millie was going to get. He may be fine with the idea, but she wasn't. She didn't know how much money he had stashed away, but he would probably need it the next few months.

The first clothing store they entered wasn't far from the restaurant. Immediately, Vash began touring the room and picking up dozens of items. Millie darted for the woman's section, while Meryl tittered on indecision. She hovered awkwardly by Vash and Clint as she watched Millie wander away from them. She wasn't going to buy anything. She probably wouldn't fit in anything after such a large breakfast anyway.

"Do you think this shirt would look good on Clint?" Vash asked her as if reading her mind.

She peered at the item and then Clint.

"I like it," she answered.

The situation was odd. She couldn't remember ever shopping with Vash like this before. If they ever went to the store together, it had generally been to buy food.

Vash added the shirt to the growing mass of fabric in his grasp. One of the employees spotted this and suddenly appeared at his side.

"Can I start you a dressing room?" He asked.

"Sure," he answered. "Clint can start trying these on while we keep looking," he dictated.

The employee spotted the teenager and took Clint's few items as well. Meryl watched him lead the way to the dressing rooms. Before she could see which room he was assigned, Vash was asking for her opinion again.

"Do you like these pants?" He asked.

She studied them. "I think the color seems a bit off shade," she admitted.

"Hm… you're right."

At once Vash put them back.

"You should pick something out that you think Clint would look really sharp in," Vash suggested.

"But I'm not sure what he likes," she answered.

Vash shrugged. "I don't think it matters that much. He's not picky. I just want him to look really nice when he goes back home. Since you are a woman, you'd probably be better at that than either of us."

Meryl gave him an odd look before rummaging through a rack. She had the nagging feeling that Vash wasn't telling her something.

After finding several more items for Clint to try on, both Vash and Meryl retreated to a bench in front of the dressing rooms. They waited patiently for both Millie and Clint to pick out their favorite clothes. Around them, other customers were chatting quietly.

"Meryl?" Vash said.

Meryl looked over at him. To her surprise, his eyes were full of seriousness. They hadn't looked this serious all day. She felt her nerves jumble again.

"Would you do anything for Clint?" He asked.

The peculiar expression from the other day was back on his face. He had the same look he had had just before he had told her she was beautiful. She felt her cheeks heat up even though the question was irrelevant to it. Involuntarily, she remembered kissing him and his cold breath on her skin.

"If he really needed your help, would you do anything to help him?" Vash asked.

His redundant question beckoned her mind back to the present. What was he saying?

"Yes, of course," she answered. When he didn't say anything else, she added, "I would do anything to keep him safe."

Her answer satisfied the outlaw. Without another explanation his stature relaxed. He sat back on the stiff bench.

"Why? Is he in trouble?" Meryl asked.

Vash's eyes flickered back to her with an unfamiliar expression, one that she couldn't read.

"I don't _think _so," he answered cryptically. "I hope not."

His unusual eyes looked away from her. Before she could ask another question, Millie had returned.

"It was a perfect fit." She announced, holding up the fitted shirt.

"Good!" Vash answered a little too enthusiastically.

Meryl continued to watch him. He wasn't going to tell her what was on his mind. He was overly excited about Millie's success. Disappointed, she fell silent.

Once Clint had returned, Vash took the successful bundle of clothes to the cashier. Predictably, he added Millie's shirt to the group. By now Meryl was sure they would be heading back to the hotel. Vash was starting to look fatigued again. However, once they left the store, he pointed out that Clint also needed another new pair of sunglasses. When that task was completed he insisted they play ball with a group of kids who were in the middle of town. Then he treated everyone to donuts, and finally when they reached the hotel, he declared a game of Sand and Stones.

"I still have it, just here," he said, rummaging through his gunny sack. With one last tug, the box came out. Several personal belongings and a few candles fell out after it.

"You still have those candles?" Meryl asked in surprise.

"Yeah, we're using them." He decided at once.

Clint and Millie began to help him set up the game and light the candles.

Meryl watched Vash put away his fallen items. His hand was shaking as he pulled the bag shut.

"Vash, we don't have to play tonight," she told him. He was an expert at hiding his emotions, but his body was unable to cover up his fatigue.

"Meryl, are you playing or what?" He asked.

When his eyes met hers, she saw the joyful spark in them.

"Yes… but I'm just reminding you, you should be taking it easy."

"Thank you for the concern, but I'm tired of taking it easy. I don't have time for it anymore," he answered softly.

The game passed by quickly. Predictably, Millie claimed first place. Vash took up the rear.

Millie stretched as she stood up.

"Wow! Today was the perfect day!" She said. "I had a lot of fun, Vash."

Meryl looked up at the outlaw. He appeared pleased with Millie's comment.

"Yeah? I had a good day too," he answered contently.

Meryl took a deep breath.

"It's getting late, Millie, and we woke up so early," she commented.

"Yeah, but I'm not tired."

Meryl glanced at Vash again. His questioning about Clint from earlier swayed in her mind. Before she could let nerves get the best of her, she spoke up again.

"Actually, I was wondering if I could have a word with you, Vash."

His eyes flickered to hers, but she forced her gaze to stay. She was determined to get to the bottom of this.

Finally, Millie understood.

"Of course," Vash answered Meryl.

The outlaw stood up, and Meryl did also.

"I'll be right back," he told Clint.

The teenager bid the insurance girls goodnight, and Vash followed them out the door.

The stars were out again, and the absence of the suns caused the temperature to cool.

"Goodnight, Vash." Millie said before entering the next room.

"Goodnight." He echoed.

Once the door shut, Meryl felt her insides squirm. She ignored them. Something was going on with Clint, and if he was in any sort of trouble, she wanted to know. She had seen Vash have silver tears. They weren't that color before he had been injected with the virus. Wouldn't that mean something _was_ wrong with Clint?

"I just wanted to ask you a quick question," Meryl explained.

She looked up into Vash's tired eyes.

"I'm in no hurry," he answered.

Meryl knew he meant what he said, but she didn't want to keep him when he looked so worn out. Being this close to him, she could see his fatigue easily.

"But you must be exhausted." She blurted. "…You've tried to cram everything into one day. There's still tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that…"

Vash gave her a small smile, and immediately Meryl felt uncomfortable. She knew what he was thinking, but she still wasn't sure if she could face the truth of their predicament. She wasn't sure if she was ready to discuss what was going to happen to him, but her lurking emotions were eager to get it out in the open.

"I don't want to waste any of it," he told her.

Contrary to Meryl's emotions, he didn't sound sad at all. His tone was content while Meryl began to feel a hundred different emotions all at once.

Her heart beat painfully in her chest, which was always a bad sign when she felt so overwhelmed.

She remembered Clint and her important question. She looked back up at him, but when she tried to speak, nothing left her mouth. He looked so weathered. She felt heat at her eyes and looked away again. Blinking furiously, she felt angry and irritated with herself. She just wanted to talk about one subject, and now a million others were surfacing through her body. She had been doing so well at keeping calm. Finally, her pent up emotions were physically breaking through her. She couldn't have asked for more inconvenient moment. She had planned to talk to Millie, not unload everything on Vash.

Her thoughts of Clint evaporated.

Meryl was trying to hide her emotional status by shielding her face from Vash, but it was too late. His cold hand landed on her cheek and wiped away a stray tear.

"Don't be sad," Vash said.

As if all of her emotions had been waiting for those words, she felt a sudden burst in her chest and more tears started falling. She didn't dare look up at him, but when she finally did, he looked disappointed.

"I'm sorry," she sniffed. "The last month has been so emotional. I'm fine. I'm just tired." She explained.

Vash pulled her in his arms. She could feel his chill skin even through his shirt. His heart was beating inside. Right now he was alive. How much more beating was left in him?

"I'm afraid to loose everything," Meryl admitted.

She returned his hug.

"You won't lose everything," Vash told her.

He sounded convincing. Maybe he didn't understand… She wanted to explain to him, to tell him, that he was "everything," but she couldn't form the words.

Vash let go of her. He put his hands back on her cheek so she would look at him. Still, he didn't look sad.

"Do you trust me, Meryl?" He asked.

She studied him, trying to pinpoint his intentions.

"Yes." She answered.

"I have a plan," he said. "I promise, you won't loose everything. You won't be lonely."

She looked up at him inquisitively. He gave her another small smile.

"So don't worry anymore," he insisted. "Life should be enjoyed….now get some good rest. We have a lot to do tomorrow."

He let go of her, and Meryl wiped her face

"And I promise I won't make you eat _all_ of your breakfast tomorrow." He teased. "Even though you don't look fat to me at all."

"I'm sorry," she said again, wiping away a new tear. She was having trouble keeping her emotions in check.

"Don't worry about it," Vash answered. His tone was melting into seriousness now. "You have been looking after everyone. You haven't had time to let yourself catch up with the situation."

"Thanks, Vash," Meryl said. She turned to her hotel door.

"Goodnight," he told her.

"Goodnight," she replied.

Vash watched her until her door shut. Then he sighed and turned his gaze to the stars. He hoped she really would be okay.

Nerves expanded in him.

How could he sleep? He had so much to do.

Inside his hotel room, Clint was sprawled out on a mattress, dressed and ready for bed. Vash slowly followed suit.

"We've got to find a way to get you home," Vash said. He finished brushing his teeth, and wiped his mouth on a hand towel. "Do you have any idea how?"

"A little…" Clint frowned. "But I don't want to go back… I'm afraid to go back."

"Why, will Meryl yell at you?"

"Maybe…but…I'm afraid I won't make it…what if there is no Clint?" He asked.

Vash grew noticeably quiet.

"It was a lot more virus than I remember." Clint continued.

Putting his toothbrush down, Vash looked at Clint seriously.

"No, I won't let anything happen to you." Then he looked at the sink again. "I talked to Meryl today. She promised me she would do anything for you."

Now his eyes diverted to the mirror as he studied himself critically. He looked as if his internal appearance was displayed across its surface. He pondered hard at his reflection, at his intentions, at his motivations. His blush gave his thoughts away.

Vash cleared his throat. "It might just be a little different than I wanted, a little more rushed." He tried to sound like he was talking about the weather. "You might just be a little… _older_."

His blush widened across his face.

"I don't want you to worry about it," he shrugged, "that's my job. I'll take the fall. Anyway… at least I know she likes me."

Vash gave Clint a forced small smile. Awkwardly, Clint returned it. Then the outlaw settled on his bed in silence.

"Why didn't you just tell her who I was?" Clint asked. He was sure that once Meryl understood, once she grasped the concept, everything would become clearer. In reality, he was surprised Meryl was still unaware of their relation.

Vash didn't answer right away. He pondered for a moment. Sometimes he forgot how young Clint was…

The silence lasted so long that Clint was sure his father wouldn't answer.

"I don't want to go through life wondering if she had only been with me because she felt obligated," he explained with sincerity.

Clint digested his words.

"But," Vash continued, "If this situation gets desperate, I'll tell her." He promised.

The outlaw got up again. He stretched his limbs and pulled back the covers on his bed. Goosebumps prickling on his skin, he crawled under the blankets. Trying to wait patiently for his little body warmth to be captured under their fabric, he glanced over at Clint again. The teenager appeared to be deep in thought.

"Don't worry," Vash said again.

Clint looked over at Vash. Evidence of the outlaw's blush was still brushed across his skin.

"Should we turn off the lights and get some sleep?" Clint asked.

"Yeah," Vash agreed.

The teenager flipped the switch. In the darkness, he crawled into his bed. Vash heard him rustling in his blankets, trying to get comfortable. Still too cold to fall asleep, the outlaw stared into the silent darkness.

He was nervous. He didn't want to rush his relationship with Meryl. He didn't want to leave her pregnant out of wedlock without support. A year was the most amount of time he could offer her now, if he was lucky, and luck was rarely on his side. Marriage appeared to clean up a lot of the mess he would leave behind for her. Unfortunately, gossip would spread to Meryl's ties about how she had gotten pregnant by a man who had left her. Even more unfortunate, people who knew her life style and occupation would more than likely consider that Vash the Stampede, the womanizer, had taken advantage of her. Her family could be furious, but she would need to be near them then, because Vash wouldn't be there to help her. To minimize her world's unbelieving, unrelenting thoughts, Marriage would be ideal. But the marriage process on Gunsmoke took sometimes months to settle and switch lawfully, not to mention the chaos it would raise with the name Vash the Stampede. His other name wasn't even on record. Even if it was just him, Meryl, and a priest, a chunk of time could fly away from him. Maybe it was worth it though, to minimize the blow, to help him feel at more at ease.

He remembered her crying only moments ago, and felt suddenly restless. If—or when they would have Clint, then Meryl wouldn't have to feel so alone. But Clint had been a miracle. His existence was unnatural. Wouldn't such an event be hard to come by? He wondered sheepishly. How long had they been together before his birth?

In the bed parallel to his, he heard Clint finally slow his breathing. Vash was now beginning to feel warm. He closed his eyes from the darkness, thinking hard. Hours passed before he gave way to slumber.

…

When Vash was warming his blood up in a hot shower the next morning, a sharp knock sounded on the door. Clint, who was already dressed in his new attire, went to answer it. Millie and Meryl had a key to their room, and he was sure room service wasn't cleaning this early in the morning. Curiously, he pulled it open.

He was jerked outside before he knew what had happened. A hand covered his mouth while an arm held him close. He immediately thought of Chame and began struggling. His efforts were useless. The villain was whole and strong this time, not weak like before.

//If you keep struggling, I'm willing to do more that just hold you.//

Clint's force evaporated. His body went limp. The murderer was dragging him further away. He felt his breath increase, not out of fear, but anger.

When his eyes lowered to the arm wrapped around him, he spotted a black handgun.

They turned the corner and Knives pinned him against the building. Clint felt the stucco surface on his back through his shirt.

He was thinking rapidly. A lot could happen in a few minutes—seconds— when no one knew where he was.

Knives removed his hand slowly from Clint's mouth. A bandage circled itself around the palm and back of his hand. His hole was still healing. Overall, he appeared in better shape than when Clint had last seen him. The look in his eyes was wild. Facial hair had been left unshaven. But he was standing upright and authoritative. When he relocated his hand to Clint's neck, Clint felt his fleshy fingers and rough bandages against his skin. Knives' gun was hanging at his side.

"You're still alive?" Clint asked him icily.

He felt a sense of pleasure in speaking to him rudely.

"I don't know what else you could possibly want from us. We've given you everything, and you managed to murder everyone at the same time. You've sentenced Vash to death, and as far as I know, he may be taking me with him."

"Just answer my questions!" Knives spat.

The dictation in his voice immediately chased away any of Clint's reckless thoughts. He felt the heat of Knives' breath and an increased pressure at his neck. He stared into Knives' piercing, cold, blue eyes.

"What do I have?" Knives asked. "Tell me what I have."

"What do you mean?" Clint asked.

"At home…when you see me…what do I do?"

"I don't understand."

"In your time," Knives elaborated.

"Nothing…I don't know exactly what you do." Clint admitted. "You travel from place to place, visiting once in a while, I think you're studying about science and plants…I don't know."

Knives expression was unreadable. He darted to his next question.

"Am I alone?"

"I don't know… whenever you visit… you come alone."

"Do I do anything to help?" Knives shot out the next one. His irises seemed to flicker a brilliant shade of blue.

"You bring me my medication, you invented it." Clint reminded him.

Knives was thinking hard, while Clint quietly wondered if Chame was still alive somewhere. What was he doing? And where was he lurking?

Knives' hand near Clint's neck fell suddenly to his side, parallel to his other one.

"Where's Vash? In the hotel?" His tone had suddenly changed: unreadable.

"Why?" Clint demanded.

"I must see him."

"_Why_?" He asked again, more stern this time.

Knives didn't answer. Clint caught his peculiar expression relax, just slightly.

Knives took a moment to sense the illness of his brother and threatened him.

//Vash, are you missing someone?//

//Clint.// was his answer.

//He's here, come get him.//

//Do I have to bring a gun?//

//That's up for you to decide.//

Only seconds later, Clint heard someone running. As the noise grew louder, he felt more tension surging through his body. Vash was coming to rescue him again. What kind of strategy was this?

Knives raised his gun to Clint with his left hand. He gripped him again with his right.

When Vash turned the corner, his silver gun stretched out to Knives. Wet hair clung to his forehead as he stared at his brother.

"Let go of him." Vash ordered.

"Spiders kill the butterflies to live…"

"I don't want to hear it. Let go of him, Knives." Vash demanded.

"Answer my question, dear brother."

Knives' tone had changed once again. The sound was quieter and calmer now, yet a hint of straining resided in it.

"Do you still disapprove a suicide?"

Vash's mind and pulse sped up at the word. He glanced at Clint and then returned his stare to Knives, trying to decode his words.

"What do you mean?" Vash asked after failing to decipher Knives' intentions.

"If the spider or the butterfly dies willingly to ensure survival of the other, what would you deem it?"

"It's not a suicide. It's a sacrifice." Vash answered.

He disapproved a self-inflicting death. What was Knives getting at? Did Knives want to watch him speedily inflict his own death? Perhaps he would threaten Clint and expect Vash to sacrifice himself to save him. But would Vash do it to save Clint? Even though the action would insure two deaths instead of one? Or could he bear watch Clint die, knowing his existence wasn't set in stone?

The silence felt weighted as Vash watched Knives' unmoving stature.

"Do what I tell you. And neither of you will get hurt." Knives' voice was quiet. His cold eyes moved to Clint again.

"What do you want?" Vash asked.

"Drop your gun, Vash, and keep both your hands up where I can see them."

Vash followed his orders. He slid the gun across the floor, away from either of them.

"Go passed me a few feet, and get against the wall, facing it."

Calmly, Vash obeyed his orders.

"Hands on head." Knives demanded.

Clint found Knives' blue eyes in their brilliant shade again. With a jerk, he recognized them. He hadn't realized how hallow Knives' eyes had become until he spotted their richness now. They were the same blue they had been when he first showed up on his and Vash's doorstep, before any of this had happened. Before Knives killed Dashen Bandera…

Knives' bandaged hand lifted off of Clint, but his gun stayed positioned. Slowly, he stepped behind Vash.

"Now don't move."

Vash heard Knives' quiet voice. He felt the words hit the back of his neck. He stiffened.

Clint eyed Vash's gun.

Then Vash felt Knives' plant his bandaged palm against his back. Before he knew what was happening, he felt a rush of energy. Strength seemed to be forming inside of him. Suddenly, a pinching sensation overtook him. With a jolt, he became aware of what Knives was doing.

As if reading his mind, Knives' dictated to his brother.

"Don't move."

Vash felt a mixture of alarm and relief. Iciness was leaving him. The air felt warm to his fingertips.

Both of Knives' arms fell to his side. He teetered slightly. His blood began to feel oddly cold.

Vash slowly turned around, a look of pure disbelief on his face. Had Knives just taken the virus out of him? He felt warm again! Why?

Knives addressed his inquisitive expression.

"I never wanted to kill you. You just never know when to quit."

His blue eyes darted to the ground.

"Anyway… I don't really have anything to live for anymore."

Knives shrugged roughly.

"I basically killed you and your family. And over the last week, I decided it was more than I could handle. I couldn't believe I took everything away from you _again_. I've _never_ fit anywhere."

Vash stared at Knives. His brother's head was lowered gracefully. His eyes were shaded from view.

"But you have a place right here," Vash insisted.

"No. We're too different Vash. We have always been too different."

"Not always…" Vash answered wearily.

Knives' stature swayed. Vash quickly embraced him to keep him stable. He felt Knives stiffen from the lock.

"Thank you," Vash told him. "You saved my life."

Knives caught Vash's eyes glossing.

"You're still too sentimental," he grunted.


	31. Grey Morning Knocks

Author's note: First off THANK YOU SO MUCH for being patient with me. My life has been very demanding, but I took my finals and I'm done with class until fall! Thanks for taking the time to read this story. It's been a blast to write. I'm planning on one more chapter after this, maybe two if I can't fit everything into it. Thanks for waiting! Please enjoy.

* * *

What really made him do it?

Meryl thought her life would be finally clearing up, but now it became complicated again.

Knives had returned unannounced, and had saved Vash's life? Something didn't sound right with that. She didn't even know something like that was possible.

She hadn't seen Knives. And frankly, she didn't want to face him. He was staying with Vash and Clint in the room next to hers. Imagining him tucked away in there made her uncomfortable.

Millie was elated about Vash, and sympathetic to Knives. She had already spoken with him. How she could accept everything so abruptly was unimaginable.

Of course Meryl was thrilled to have Vash back, but the way it had happened, the choices Knives took… a hole was in her understanding.

_Why did he do it?_

She remembered his cruelty, his actions just after he had shot Vash. He was full of hatred. And she had hated him.

Meryl rolled her fingers up into a fist. Just thinking about the moment set a fire off in her body. She was sick of him. He had helped her save Clint. He had helped her save Vash. But she wanted nothing to do with him.

Catching her emotions, she flattened out her palm again.

Now he would die because of his own actions. She wasn't sure what she thought about it.

… And not only was Knives impossible to comprehend, but so was Chame. He had _helped _her with Millie, even when he was the one who shot her. People are so grey. Knives was afraid to lose Clint, Chame was afraid to lose Millie, Meryl was afraid to lose Vash. Everyone's actions and behaviors felt sporadic. Even after Chame had helped her and Millie, he was angry with them, and later he confronted Millie. Knives had eradicated Vash's life, but was distressed to lose Clint to Chame, and now he had retrieved Vash's life for the price of his own. Even Meryl herself had felt the surge of anger and hate when Knives had shot Vash, but she never acted on it.

Anyone can slip. She thought. Everyone is grey.

Good moral did exist in Chame and Knives, even after they had each taken a loud part in killing hundreds of people. Some people they didn't want dead. The line they had that separated their actions seemed to change places everyday without warning.

Meryl's thoughts were interrupted when Millie returned to the hotel room. Meryl heard the door open and close, and she suddenly became aware of her surroundings again. How long had she been standing in front of the bathroom mirror in deep thought? And how long had she left the water running? She couldn't even remember if she had washed her hands yet. Breaking her mind away from her redundant thought pattern, she quickly washed and dried her hands. She turned the light off as she exited the bathroom.

Millie looked happy today. She pulled out a container of vanilla pudding from a brown paper bag.

"Want any pudding, Meryl?"

"No thanks," Meryl sighed.

"Knives seems to be doing a little better today," Millie announced. She had apparently visited the room next door before going on her pudding excursion.

When Meryl digested Millie's words, she could think of no honest answer. She watched Millie dip a plastic spoon into her creamy snack.

"How is Clint?" Meryl asked instead.

"Clint? He's fine Meryl. He actually seems better than usual today, and my brother sent the rest of his belongings to the hotel."

"Vash said he's probably going to go home soon," Meryl told her.

Millie didn't catch the suspicion in Meryl's voice.

"I'm really going to miss him," Millie replied with a mouthful of pudding.

Meryl hesitated.

"It will be good for him," she said. "Ironic timing—just when Chame has gone missing," she blurted out.

"I'm sure he feels a lot better now that Vash is going to live," Millie answered.

….

Knives picked up a pen that was on the dresser. The hotel logo was branded on its side. In one, smooth, straight line, he crossed out a line of words and thoughts that had been written out on a sheet of paper. This time, he was perplexed, but he withheld the information from the other two. A relationship between plants and time seemed incomprehensible. The theory was one he had never heard. Clint must share Vash's unpredictable fortune. The teenager's status appeared to be more of a fluke than ever before.

He would keep trying, but now exhaustion gnawed at him annoyingly.

Yawning, Knives tucked the paper away.

Before he fell asleep, unusual emotions slithered stealthily through him.

Was it a good decision?

He could never know for sure. Something he couldn't quite put in words motivated him to act. Spiders and Butterflies were blurring.

No, it didn't make sense logically. But logic could be argued as an opinion and perspective.

Without intention, almost unaware, he had let Clint get an emotional hold on him. Did he regret letting it happen? Even regret and gratitude were blurring together these days.

His thoughts continued to twist and fade together until they were unrecognizable. His conscious evaded him.

….

Millie and Meryl halted their conversation when a knock on the door interrupted them. Automatically, Millie answered. She instantly recognized the woman as one of the hotel's employees.

"We already had our room cleaned, Miss. Thank you for your concern," Millie answered happily.

"Oh, I'm here to deliver a letter for both Ms. Millie Thompson and Ms. Meryl Stryfe," the woman explained.

Meryl jumped up at the words and went to Millie's side. The woman looked tired, but she still tried to retain a polite tone. When the woman held out the letter, Meryl immediately grabbed it. She recognized the handwriting and address at once. The envelope had come from her family.

"Have a great day!" Millie told the woman.

Meryl already had the envelope open before the door was shut. She pulled a letter out. On it, she spotted a note scribbled by her mother explaining the letter had been sent to her house and her parent's had decided to forward it to Meryl's current address.

Meryl unfolded the letter and several diverse predictions and accusations went through her mind all at once. The letter was from Bernardeli.

Whatever the printed words were about to tell her and Millie, she wasn't going to leave or do anything without Vash. Not this time.

Her eyes began to digest the words. She hadn't received a business letter for a while, and the formal words felt almost unfamiliar.

"What does it say?" Millie asked.

"They want another report on our status," Meryl explained. "The Chief sounds desperate to hear from us."

Her eyes continued down the page.

"Bernardeli has been relocated to Damron. They want us there as soon as we can make it."

Meryl finished the letter and folded it again.

"What are we going to do?" Millie asked.

"I'll tell Vash," Meryl responded at once.

She left before Millie could say anything else.

_Damron_. The name of the city rang a bell, but she couldn't remember why it sounded important.

She had the spare key to Vash's room, but she still gave a warning knock before opening the door. Quickly, she entered the room and bumped straight into Vash.

"Sorry," she muttered.

She looked up to meet his eyes, but was caught off guard to find them a bright blue. Her insides recoiled in a flash. She was facing Knives.

Meryl felt uneasy when he shut the door behind her. She spotted the goose bumps on his skin and tried to calm her mind's automatic accusations. The outside air was likely to be a bit uncomfortable for him.

The room looked completely depressed. The lights were off, the curtains were drawn, the two beds were unmade, a blanket and pillow were backed into a corner of the room, and Vash and Clint were out of sight.

"Is Vash here?" Meryl quickly asked.

"No. He and Clint are out."

"Where did they go?" She asked with edge.

"That's confidential. You'll have to ask them." Knives answered.

"Tell him I stopped by," she dictated. She took a step back, but faltered when she saw a smooth smirk cross Knives' face.

The door knob poked into her back, and as if it was an alarm, she belted out her question at once.

"What did you do to Vash?" She demanded.

The look that overcame his undamaged face irritated her even more. At first his expression appeared curious and then amused.

"Everyone else may be willing to open their arms to you, but I know what you're capable of. I don't trust you." Meryl explained.

His expression didn't change.

She knew he had much more control, much more ability than she did, but she wouldn't keep silent this time around. She _couldn't _keep silent even if she had wanted.

"I know you're up to something," she said.

"Something?" He inquired.

Meryl gave him a curt nod.

"I saved Vash's life. I'm dying. Aren't you satisfied?"

His words were bland, all expressed in a light monotone.

"No," Meryl answered. "I won't believe you until I know why you did it. Why you do anything."

"Do you have any siblings, Meryl?"

She felt uncomfortable hearing her name in his voice. The way he presented it gave her the impression that he still prized himself as the dominant race. His eyes burrowed into hers.

Knives took her silence as a yes.

"Did they ever rub raw your patience? Have you ever done something you regret even when you were in the right?"

Finally, his expression changed as his eyes searched her for the first time.

Still, she didn't answer, she didn't want to open herself up to him. She didn't want to become more vulnerable. How could such a simple, everyday, childlike flaw be an excuse for his murders?

"I don't regret everything I've done." He added. "People have different ways of thinking, but what breeds action are priorities. What's really most important to you will govern your choices. A starving animal will find food most important. If he finally finds it, and something prevents him from eating it, he will do whatever necessary to try and win it back."

"Are you telling me that Vash has suddenly become a priority on your list?" Meryl asked in a negative tone.

"I never intended to kill him. He just got in the way. I never intended on hurting Clint either."

"But Vash wasn't your priority at the time. Chame was. Is that what you're trying to tell me?" Meryl demanded.

Her rude voice did nothing to intimidate him.

"Of course Chame was my priority, Vash and Clint weren't even supposed to have been there."

Meryl didn't miss the absence of Millie's and hers names.

"Once I took care of Chame, I needed to decide what to do with myself."

"So what _really_ dictated your decision?" Meryl asked. She wanted to hear his straight answer and observe the words he chose.

His blue eyes stared into hers.

"I didn't want anything to happen to Clint."

Before Meryl could ask another question, the door knob pushed further into her back. She jumped out of the way as the door opened.

Vash and Clint both looked weary, but Vash gave Meryl a small smile when he spotted her.

"Meryl was looking for you," Knives explained.

Meryl took a moment to rack her brain as to why she had come here. When she remembered, the information suddenly felt unimportant.

"Millie and I got a letter from Bernardeli. They want us to move to Damron," she explained.

Unexpectedly, Clint and Vash exchanged expressions.

"I'm only going to go if you come too," she told him. She felt silly saying the words when Knives was present.

"Of course we'll come."

Vash's eyes went to Knives. Meryl followed them. Vash's brother looked slightly irritated by the idea.

"Just give us a week." Vash added.

"Where were you and Clint?" Meryl asked next.

"Uh… we were just getting some exercise." Vash told her.

Clint gave her a small, apologetic smile.

Immediately, her suspicion grew.

"What kind?" She asked.

"Just a good run," Vash answered.

Before she could open her mouth again, Vash had opened the door.

"I could really use a shower," he explained with a smile.

Without returning it, Meryl took her leave. Unexpected irritation swelled up in her. Why wouldn't he tell her what was _really _going on with Clint?

_Do you trust me, Meryl?_

The words Vash had told her earlier ran through her mind. She sighed and let the negative emotions flow away from her. Of course she trusted him, but how many secrets would he have to keep from her?

The remainder of the day passed slowly. Meryl spent most of it in the hotel room, trying to start her report, while Millie helped her recount everything that had happened since the Chief had last heard from them.

When her head finally hit the hotel's feather pillow, she felt mentally exhausted and physically restless. Without warning, Knives' blue eyes bombarded her mind. She smashed the blankets over her face. Would she _ever_ be able to think of him without having any sort of negative emotions attached?

…

Meryl jerked awake. Everything was still dark. No sun was leaking out through the curtains. She heard a loud thump and something metallic being jingled around. She sat up abruptly. Someone was trying to get into Vash's room. Jumping out of bed, she rushed to her door. Its surface was cold against her ear. She could hear voices outside, but was unable to distinguish what was being said. Suddenly, the intruder knocked on her door. Immediately, she pulled her head away from the hard surface. She glanced around the dark hotel room for her gun.

Millie rolled over and rubbed her eyes.

"Morning already?" She asked.

Meryl shook her head as she grabbed her gun.

"Who is it?" Millie asked groggily.

'Something isn't right,' Meryl thought as she went back to the door. 'Perhaps Chame…'

The individual knocked again, louder now.

"Meryl?" Someone called through the door. "Millie?"

She grabbed the door knob and pulled the door open. Cold air greeted her skin, making it bump up involuntarily. Vash was standing before her, looking uncomfortable. His right hand was gripping the outside doorframe.

"What's wrong, Vash?" Meryl asked at once. Alarm spread through her.

"Well…" he dragged out the word and Meryl relaxed. Obviously, it wasn't something serious. He was in no hurry to get to an explanation.

She spotted the figures of Knives and Clint behind him. Knives was leaning against the railing, his arms folded across his chest. Clint came to Vash's side.

The outlaw scratched his head and gave her a small smile.

"I locked our key inside the room," he explained.

"Oh, is that it?" Meryl responded.

Vash looked immediately relieved.

"Yeah, that's it," he answered, happily now.

Meryl left the door open as she retrieved the spare.

Vash held out his hand eagerly for it.

Just before she placed it in his hand, her fatigued mind caught up with the situation. She paused.

"What are you guys doing?" She asked. "What time is it?"

Vash's eagerness evaporated. He stiffened, and his eyes flashed to the other two. Knives looked irritated and ignored Vash's gaze. Clint exchanged a sympathetic expression. All of them were dressed, Knives even had a coat. The stars were out. Meryl knew it was well passed midnight.

"Eh…" Vash stalled.

Meryl lowered her eyebrows as she waited for him to answer. Her question should have been easy to answer.

"We were just out for a drink," he finished lamely.

"With Clint?" Meryl asked skeptically. She couldn't smell any alcohol, and his eyes looked suspicious.

"I'll explain later," he insisted, "I promise."

Meryl didn't move. For a moment the two remained silent, staring into each other's eyes. Finally, the small insurance girl sighed and let the key drop into the outlaw's palm.

Without another word, she shut the door.

"I don't understand why you are so persistent on leaving her in the dark."

Meryl heard Knives tell Vash. He didn't bother to keep his voice down. If Vash answered him, he was too quiet. Meryl didn't hear a response. But then Knives spoke again.

"If it's going to happen, wouldn't it make more sense to tell her up front? So she can prepare—"

"No," Vash interrupted loudly, but not unkind. "It wouldn't… not for me anyway." He added.

She heard their door opening.

Knives started again, but his voice died away. Their door closed. They were arguing about her, but now she couldn't hear them. After accepting the fact, she returned to her bed. Millie had fallen asleep as fast as she had woken.

Meryl tried not to let her mind agree with Knives' words. She knew Vash had a legitimate reason for not telling her what was going on. She just had to be patient.

….

Damron was not as big as Sunset City had been, but its size was comfortable. From what Meryl had heard, the town was growing extremely quick. In fact, finding shelter was almost impossible because population appeared to be growing faster than buildings being built. Homes were crowded with extended family members, who were sharing a house until they could find one of their own. At first Meryl was unsure why so many people were drawn to the modest place, but within 24 hours, she was sold. The temperature was perfect, the people were friendly, and from her perspective, it was relatively family proof.

The Chief of Bernardeli was very pleased to see Meryl and Millie. Meryl felt relieved to hand over her latest report. It had been a pain and tedious task to come up with a somewhat accurate explanation for all of the plant disruptions and to recount everything she and Millie had been occupied with.

They were welcomed by several familiar faces and Millie greeted them enthusiastically. Meryl kept her distance until one of her old co-workers pulled her into a hug.

"Oh my gosh, Meryl! You're still breathing!" Karen exclaimed. "Too bad about Charles. What happened between you guys? I thought you really loved him!"

Meryl couldn't think of a reply so she was grateful when the Chief ordered everyone to get back to work.

The building of Bernardeli was obviously different, but some people never changed. Meryl wasn't sure she wanted to go back. She felt like an outsider. These thoughts weren't unfamiliar however, she always felt alienated when she had to return to headquarters after a long job in the field. Slowly, she would sink back into the rhythm, unlike Millie who seemed to bend and mold into anything that was required of her at any minute.

"That was fun to see everyone!" Millie said once they were outside again.

"Yeah…" Meryl answered with little emotion.

Something _would be_ different this time around. Vash would greet Meryl everyday after work. 'Hopefully,' she thought. He and the other two blonds appeared to be increasingly busy doing nothing. On several occasions she had heard them return to their room in early morning hours. She stopped asking Vash about it. If Clint was with them, then they couldn't be up to too much trouble. Were they looking for a cure for Knives? Even if she better understood him, and appreciated his sacrifice, she still felt uncomfortable in his presence.

….

As much as Vash loved Clint, as much as he would do anything to keep him safe, he was running out of excuses to tell the insurance girls why he was so busy and exhausted all the time. Millie was always worried about his health, and he was tired of having to leave Meryl in the dark. He would explain what he was up to someday, but he couldn't just throw the responsibility of being Clint's mother on her. Even though he had made his decision, he would imagine telling her about it often. Every time he went through it in his mind, it sounded like a bad idea.

Vash got out of bed before he would fall asleep again.

He rubbed his eyes to invigorate his heavy eyelids. The effect wore off after several seconds. He didn't bother another attempt. He would feel more alert once they were outside.

Quietly, Vash, Knives, and Clint left their hotel room. Clint shut the door softly behind them. The procedure became routine, and all three of them made their quick stroll in silence.

Once they were to the familiar building that monitored the bright luminous plants, they took the usually inconspicuous route to get inside. Knives was an expert at keeping their activity unknown.

They entered the building, and Vash felt the dreaded emotion swell up in him again. His mourning never affected him until he was inside, when they were close to more experimenting.

They had been spending countless nights here with the plants studying and trying to understand their relation with Clint. Every night was a gamble. They still didn't know what triggered the time switch, but if it was some sort of fluke, like Knives suggested, none of them knew what night Clint would be taken from him. Because of this factor, every night was full of redundant, uncomfortable emotions. Vash never knew if morning would bring depression or temporary elation. So far, it had been the latter.

'He's not dying,' Vash would remember every night, 'he's just going home.'

Despite his repetitive thoughts, his emotions would try to tell him otherwise. Tonight was no different.

"Shall we?" Knives asked. He opened the usual door.

Vash and Clint entered the room silently.

Inside, the most efficient plant in Damron was shining astonishingly. The glassy surface reflected off of Clint's sun glasses, mimicking the whites of his eyes.

Without warning, Vash pulled Clint into a hug. He reminded him that he loved him. He did it every night. By now the action had probably lost its charm, but he never knew if this time would be the last he would see him… well, at least for a long time.

Knives ignored their exchange and casually made his way to the plant. She appeared to be abnormally active, even counting the fact that Clint was here. Sliding his fingertips across her smooth surface, he pondered again with closed eyes. Clint's predicament was a frustrating game, but Knives wasn't sure what he would spend his thoughts on once the teenager was gone.

"Knives?"

Slowly, he opened his eyes and saw the teenager's figure distorted drastically on the glassy surface beside him.

"What do you want to me to do tonight? Vash was thinking that this time we might be able to interfere if we send someone to the control panels."

"We don't need the control panels," Knives answered at once. His blue eyes never departed the glossy bulb. Instead of just his fingertips, his whole hand was pressed against the surface now. "Those are for the humans. We get everything we need here. We can comprehend just as well as the computers, and we have your personal explanation of what happened."

He didn't sound irritated, but Clint fell silent at once.

"She's abnormally excited to see you," Knives said. "Here."

Knives moved away from the plant, motioning for Clint to take his place. When the teenager took a step toward the plant, her energy jumped unusually high.

"Clint!" Vash called.

The teenager thought he heard a hint of urgency in Vash's voice. Butterflies flew rapidly in his stomach, but he didn't hesitate. Clint used to feel anxious in front of these kinds of plants, and often he felt ill after being with them. But he didn't need to worry anymore. He had been here and worked with this plant almost every night. Unlike the others, he only had to take a couple of white pills to keep his body stable. He shouldn't feel afraid.

Vash spotted the elegant being emerging from the fog within the glass bulb. She was far above Clint, but he didn't appear to have noticed her presence. His hands were inches from the surface. Vash watched them grow closer.

Before Clint had even touched the glass, a loud crack sounded. The light from the plant intensified. Vash was knocked to the ground while trying to spot Clint through the blinding light. His eyes watered annoyingly, thwarting his attempts to find the boy. He blinked, and as a result, the water began to cascade and smear on his cheeks. His eyes stung.

Finally, the light dimmed. Vigorously, he forced himself to his feet. He spotted Knives slowly getting up to his own.

"Clint?" Vash called. He searched the area quickly. "_Clint_?" He asked again, louder.

The being inside the orb was watching him now. He caught her curious look and felt all the fear he had of Clint being injured, dissipate. Frozen, he stared at her. His heart, which had been racing, sounded loud in his motionless body. The tenseness in his shoulders melted away.

Knives cursed.

Vash's eyes broke away from the humanoid. His twin looked irritated.

"Are you okay?" Vash asked. Cautiously, he went to Knives' side.

"No!" He answered flatly.

"Did something go wrong?" Vash asked, worried.

"Yes. It was another fluke."

Vash's expression softened. "You can't expect yourself to understand everything. Maybe some things we aren't supposed to comprehended."

Judging by the expression Knives thrust in his direction, Vash's words did little to calm his brother. Vash was too eager for Knives' reassurance to continue the subject.

"Clint's okay, though right? It worked, right?" He asked.

"He's probably just fine," Knives grunted. "But we need to leave, Vash. That was enough to set off all the warning alarms. If you want to prevent your life from becoming unnecessarily complicated, we need to exit before anyone finds us."

Frowning, Vash nodded.

Outside, commotion was already occurring. Professionals were rushing to get inside the building, and a few early birds were peering curiously at the plants. Vash pretended to be one of them and asked another man what was going on. Once he smelled the alcohol on the man's breath, he realized half of them weren't early birds at all, but late night drunks.

Knives didn't bother putting up a façade.

When they returned to their hotel room, Vash collapsed restlessly into his mattress. His eyes lingered on the empty roll-away bed in the corner. How would he know if Clint was safe?

Vash turned over, away from the empty space. Knives was already under the covers of his bed, eyes closed. Vash hadn't even heard his blankets rustle.

Knives had told Clint, that if for some reason he wasn't sent back to his regular time, to look for Vash. Then he could try sending him home again. Vash, like Knives, was unsure of how time-traveling worked, but he felt nearly confident that Clint was on his way home. The idea was bittersweet.

Suddenly, he remembered something Clint had told him. He got out of bed and opened the drawer of his wooden nightstand. Except for an envelope, the compartment was empty. He picked it up and read the name on the front: _Meryl_. He turned it over and found it sealed shut. After glancing at the clock, he realized he would have to wait several more hours before giving the letter to her. Reluctantly, he put the envelope away and retired to bed again. Emotions brewed and mixed in this stomach. He wished he had known Clint was leaving. He wished he had given him a better goodbye.

He had no recollection of drifting off to sleep and was unaware of his status until knocking at the door woke him up. His eyes found the clock. It told him noon was a little more than an hour away. He jumped out of bed and answered. At once blinding bright light obscured his vision.

"Vash!"

The voice was alarmed.

Vash rubbed his eyes. Apart from a few blotchy spots in his vision, he could distinguish the insurance girls. He deciphered their urgent emotions and pulled himself up straighter. They walked into his room and he shut the door behind him.

Meryl opened her mouth to speak, but held her tongue when Millie started.

"Still sleeping? You must have been up late last night, Vash," she pointed out.

Vash now waited for Meryl's explanation, but Millie's words seemed to have set off another thought in the small insurance girl. After a few seconds, Meryl was right in front of him, her eyes blazing into his.

"Vash! The plants! Something happened to them last night. Is it happening again? Do you think Chame—?"

Vash was finding it hard to speak, especially when Meryl was so eager to hear his answer.

"The plants are fine. It wasn't the virus," Knives explained with ease. "We went and saw them last night to make sure everything was fine. They just seemed to be having a power surge."

Meryl glanced at Knives, but waited for Vash to confirm what she had heard.

"It's nothing to worry about," Vash agreed.

"Everyone was really worried about it around town. The Chief asked us to check it out," Millie explained.

Vash cringed when her blue eyes found Clint's empty bed.

"Where's Clint?" She asked predictably.

"Uh…" Vash stalled as he tried to decide the best way to break the news.

"He went home. His mother came here for him this morning," Knives lied easily.

"What?" Meryl asked blankly.

"He wrote her since we've been here. He put the address on it this time, and she came straight here," Knives continued simply.

Vash nodded numbly, his insides stinging as he stared straight into Meryl's eyes.

"…but…" Meryl started.

"We didn't get to say goodbye," Millie finished for her.

"Vash, why didn't you wake us up or tell us?" Meryl asked.

"We didn't know he was leaving either. It happened so fast," Vash explained.

He pulled the nightstand's drawer open and withdrew the envelope.

"He asked me to give this letter to you," Vash said, handing her the envelope.

"I miss him already," Millie announced.

Meryl's eyes stared deeply into Vash's. She looked unhappy.

"You're lying." She accused.

Vash's expression faltered.

"All three of you have been up to something with those plants, and now Clint's gone." Meryl pointed out more aggressively than she intended. "What's going on?"

Meryl thought she saw Knives smirk from the corner of her eye, but when she glanced at him, he looked bland and unexpressive. Once again she sensed she was seriously missing something and that something involved her.

"I thought maybe you three were looking for a cure…" Meryl added when no one answered.

"There is no cure," Knives reminded blandly.

Meryl didn't look at Knives. She kept her eyes glued to the outlaw.

"Vash…" Millie broke the heavy silence. "I thought Clint was from Damron."

Meryl nearly choked. Damron! That's why the city had sounded so familiar!

"Okay, Vash." Meryl stepped closer to him. "I think Millie and I deserve the truth. Clint was practically family."

Vash felt heat rise around his neck. Meryl was surprisingly intimidating for her size.

Finally, he heaved a huge sigh.

"Well?" Meryl asked.

"I'm sorry," he gave her a small smile. "Telling you right now might hurt him."

"What do you mean?" Meryl demanded. "Is he in trouble?"

"He won't be if I can keep my mouth shut for a while."

Vash's new peculiar expression came over him. Meryl still wasn't used to seeing this look on his face. Every time she did, her mind involuntarily slipped back to their first kiss. Her irritation depleted once again.

"He's fine. Trust me."


	32. Smooth Beginnings

Vash the Stampede Dead

**Vash the Stampede Dead! 60 Billion Humanoid Typhoon Dies after Unknown Illness! Unnatural Discoveries from Vash the Stampede's Illness. **The headlines were everywhere still, even though Knives had passed away over three weeks ago. A local paper boy passed the newspaper into Vash's hands. His heart skipped a beat and sped up when he caught the headline of it. **How Humanoid? Secret Observations and Studies Reveal Plantlike Structure (See A4)**. Vash shoved the paper back to the paper boy, crinkling and misshaping the headline in the process. His stomach rolled over and he departed in a quick pace.

The Suns were at their highest point in the sky, telling Vash it was only midday. The Insurance Girls wouldn't get off work for another five hours. Although he had left the paper behind, the headline continued to flash through his head. Instead of catching his breath, it seemed to speed up the farther he walked away from the scene.

Finally, he reached home. He dashed up the front porch and quickly unlocked the front door. He collapsed on the couch in the living room. His hands covered his eyes and then reached up into his blond hair. He gripped it.

Maybe times had been better… when they had to fight to protect others.

'No,' he thought. 'Not any better. To get what you want in life, you have to be willing to pay for the cost.'

He let his hands fall and he stared up at the bland ceiling. His breathing had slowed.

He was completely alone right now, and no one was after him. His name was not important in the world. Finally, he could blend in with everyone else. He was an outlaw no longer.

The house was silent.

Vash heaved a sigh. Involuntarily, he remembered the 60 billion check stashed away upstairs in his bedroom. His frown deepened. Tomorrow he was leaving to take it to December.

Ever since Knives had taken the illness from Vash, he had planned on taking the Humanoid Typhoon with him. No matter what Vash had said, Knives insisted that taking such actions were the most logical way of dying. Vash would be free, and he could pay back the orphanage and settle any future problems. Of course, Vash had disagreed with the entire idea. How could he bear turning in his own brother as himself? He never did it.

However, when he hospitalized Knives, everything on the matter went out of control. Vash knew he was taking a chance when he checked Knives in, but the doctors had better medication than he could get his hands on. He wanted Knives to be in as little pain as possible. Vash used fake names to get him in. When this was discovered, Knives had somehow planted the idea of being the _Humanoid Typhoon_ into the minds of the nurse and doctor. Knives' illness, anatomy, and abnormal behavior all added to the idea. In the end, Vash was given the reward of 60 billion for turning Knives in. **Citizen Unknowingly Turns in Vash the Stampede for Medical Purposes**—the headlines had read.

The whole situation was uncanny. If it hadn't been for the fact that Knives wasn't human, Vash doubted it would have turned out this way. Still, the departing of Knives caused many rough ends to finally smooth over in society. Now, a new life could begin— one completely different than Vash had ever been able live. Finally, he was free.

After a few more stray thoughts wondered through his head, Vash got off the couch. He had a lot to do today. His bittersweet emotions retreated further away, into the back of his mind. He needed to sweep the kitchen, take out the trash, clean the bathroom, do his laundry, and buy more shaving cream. He couldn't keep sitting around. He shouldn't. He had been through these thought patterns of Knives so many times that he had chronologically mapped out his internal mind trip. Only one thing seemed to make them disappear, and at the moment it was unreachable.

So, he shoved the thoughts away and went for the broom. He took his time putting on some music. Now that he was completely alone, he didn't need to worry about bothering anyone with its noise. He turned up the volume and got to work in the kitchen. Particles zoomed into the dust pan with the force he exerted on the broom. He danced around the counters, fridge, and kitchen table to sweep every speck. After dumping the dirt in the kitchen trash can, he emptied out all the garbage cans in the house. He continued cleaning up the house throughout the day, and then, with it was nearing four in the afternoon, he headed back into town. He took the long way so he could avoid the paper boy.

At the general store, he grabbed some shaving cream and a few other toiletries. He watched the store's clock tick behind the counter. The longest, black hand was nearing the number nine. He paid for his belongings and was about to rush to Bernardeli, but his heart jumped in surprise when he saw Meryl just outside the small building. Holding his bags in one hand, he held the door open for her with the other.

"Good afternoon, Miss," he said neatly.

Meryl's dark eyes reached his aqua ones as she smiled at him.

Vash let his façade slide away. "You got off work early? I was just on my way to meet you." He announced. Already, he was starting to feel better. The presence of the small insurance girl seemed to do that these days.

"Yeah, I finished the paperwork early. Chief didn't want to give me anything new since we're leaving tomorrow. I was just going to grab some water before I came to the house," she explained.

She always referred to their headquarters as "the house." Vash had managed to snatch up the place before anyone else could, so of course he had Meryl and Millie move in. The place had four bedrooms, and since Damron was so overpopulated, they needed to make use of the room they had. All three of them were content with the idea and sometimes used it as an excuse.

"Millie has to stay after to tidy up the office," Meryl said as she grabbed a bottle of water off a shelf.

"Late too many times?" Vash asked her.

"Yeah," Meryl answered.

They had made it back to the counter, but now a line had formed. The cashier picked up speed.

Meryl looked over at Vash. She searched his stature. Something was different about him and nearly a minute passed before she could put a word to what that something was. He looked like everyone else in the store. He looked _ordinary_.

The insurance girl heard another person walk into the general store. She turned her eyes. He was a man with dark hair and stubble beginning to grow on his square jaw. His mossy eyes locked to Vash, who was oblivious to the stare. He examined Vash curiously and then continued into the store.

Meryl looked back at Vash. He still had blond spiky hair, a prosthetic limb, and scars etched into him. A lot of people around here knew who he was for having "obliviously turned in the Humanoid Typhoon." Yet, with all these similarities, she knew that this Vash was different than the Vash a month ago. Maybe the difference was just the knowledge that he wasn't _Vash the Stampede_ anymore. Finally, he was just Vash. Finally, the world wouldn't see him as a threat.

"What's wrong?" He asked when he caught Meryl's stare.

"Nothing," she answered truthfully.

"Are you worried about going to the orphanage?" Vash asked her.

"Do you think he'll be there?"

Meryl didn't need to say his name. She knew Vash had been wondering the same question. If Chame was still alive, he would most likely be taking refuge at the orphanage… wouldn't he? Neither Vash nor Meryl could clearly imagine how their trip to the orphanage would turn out. Potentially, it could be good or bad. Maybe the people there would be angry to see Vash and the insurance girls after everything that had happened. Or maybe they were oblivious to the status of Chame and would remember the kind service Vash and the others had provided on their last visit.

Vash pondered for a moment.

"Yes," he answered.

Meryl tried again to envision the visit. She tried to imagine Chame's reaction to them. Meeting him at the orphanage was probably the safest place to come in contact with him. She knew the place was important to him. The people there he considered more important than the other people he had killed. He wouldn't ever put them in danger.

Her thoughts broke when Vash was leading them out of the general store.

"Wait…" Meryl started. She hadn't even paid for the water yet.

"Don't worry." He said, reading her mind. "I paid for it."

Meryl broke open the seal on her water. She took a swig as they started their walk back to the house. Vash took the long way again. Meryl didn't need to ask him why. She had seen the headline. Nonetheless, her spirits dampened as they extended their stroll. Her stomach didn't contort this time, but it felt empty.

"How was your day today?" Meryl asked.

"Not too bad."

"I mean… how are you feeling today?"

Vash glanced at her. He hesitated.

"Better than before. I'll feel a lot better when the money is gone."

Meryl grabbed his hand. The fingers were harder than his others because they were prosthetic, but she knew he would recognize her message.

"The public… they have it all wrong," he spoke again.

"Vash, they've always had it all wrong."

Vash let go of Meryl's hand and put his arm around her as the house came into view. Involuntarily, her heart jumped while a small surge of heat snuck on her face.

"I'm happy you're here." He said.

She could find nothing to say nor did she want to speak.

"I feel better, when you're here."

Vash opened the front door for them. Meryl was just now getting used to the tidiness of the house. Vash was pretty decent when it came to keeping it clean.

"I better start packing since we're leaving tomorrow morning." Meryl announced.

Vash held onto her for a second longer and reluctantly let her leave.

"Do you need any help?" He asked.

Of course Vash was already packed. He had packed this morning.

"No, just some company." Meryl answered.

"I'm good at that," he perked up.

Meryl's room wasn't as tidy as the rest of the house. She had belongings scattered around the area, waiting to be packed or put away. Many of them she still hadn't decided whether or not to bring on the trip. However, the bed was nicely made and Vash sat leisurely on it.

The small insurance girl began packing and cleaning her room. She picked up a shirt to toss in the hamper. Under it was an envelope with her name on it. She froze.

Vash watched her. She tossed her shirt and picked up the envelope with both hands. Vash could see the top edge had been sliced open. Holding his breath, he waited to observe her reaction.

One of her hands dropped to her hip as her stare found him.

"Vash, when are you going to tell me the truth about Clint?"

"What do you mean?" Vash stalled.

"I know there's something you haven't told me." She elaborated. How many times had they had this conversation? Still, she hadn't gotten the answer. "Clint wrote me two letters," she continued. "One I was supposed to read right away, and a smaller one I was supposed to read when I 'knew the truth about his existence.' So I want to know."

"You're ready to read the other letter?" Vash asked.

"I already read the other letter."

Meryl felt pleased when she saw Vash's face whiten and his eyes widen. He seemed to be searching her for the answer she was asking him. She let his torture wander for another second before she went on.

"Don't worry. I can't make any sense of it," Meryl admitted.

Vash relaxed slightly.

"It sounds pretty wild to me. I know it would make more sense if you just came clean and told me about him. Clint's not here with us anymore Vash. He's not even in Damron. Would he really be put in danger if you told _me?_ I'm just an insurance girl. Anyway, I wouldn't have to tell anyone. I won't even tell Millie."

Vash was silent for several seconds. Finally, he answered. "I don't think he wants you to know… yet."

Meryl's eyebrows lowered slightly. "No. Vash, I think _you _don't want me to know. He seems to be pushing some heavy hints in these letters."

Vash frowned at her words and tone.

When he didn't answer, Meryl pulled out the smaller of the two letters and started reading out loud.

"'Meryl'" She started.

Vash cringed away.

"'I can't tell you how long it will be before I'm in your arms again… at least in your time. I'm thrilled to have Vash back to greet me when I come home. Life will be different and so much better with him there. He tries too hard, so don't be too hard on him. He's really a good guy and I know you'll be happy with him. He'd be willing to give—'"

"Okay. Enough," Vash interrupted. His stature had drooped greatly. His body was concaved. "You shouldn't have read that." Vash pointed out, working to get in control of the circumstances again.

"It wouldn't have made a difference if I didn't. I trust you Vash, but isn't it time you trust me?" Meryl asked.

She sighed when he didn't answer.

"Are you adopting Clint?"

"No," Vash answered at once. He shifted uncomfortably on Meryl's bed. Deep seriousness covered his face, bringing back the peculiar expression Meryl hadn't seen in weeks.

"Don't you trust me, Vash?"

"Of course I trust you," he responded at once. "I just don't want the idea to complicate things."

His eyes turned away from her.

His vague answer and the red creeping up into his face only fed Meryl's curiosity. What was it that had Vash so uncomfortable?

"Complicate what things?" She asked.

"Us." He looked straight back into her eyes as he said it. His voice was powerful again… almost… irritated?

Still holding the letter, she wandered over to the bed and sat on the edge right next to him. He watched her.

"Vash, I really don't think anything can get more complicated between us then what has already happened."

A tiny smile fell on his face, as if he was thinking of a private joke.

"What if it's awkward to you?" He asked.

Curiosity was burning in Meryl now. For once she felt like she had a good chance at getting to the bottom of all of this business. She tried to silence her eagerness.

"What could be more awkward then me being engaged while I tried to kiss you?" She asked smoothly.

"I can think of maybe one thing." He answered.

Now Meryl's mind was swirling. She tried to fit all the puzzle pieces together, but it seemed that several of them belonged to a different puzzle entirely.

"What then?" She asked. If she waited too long to answer, Vash might silence the conversation entirely.

"Clint _is _my son."

Meryl's beating heart started to slow.

"That's it?" She asked, slightly surprised. "That's nothing to worry about. Why didn't you just tell me from the starting then?"

"Because I didn't know."

Vash shifted again. Meryl felt the mattress bend and move in response. She debated her next words.

"Was it a one night stand?" She asked gently.

Now Vash suppressed a smile. His eyes shined.

"No. I've known his mom for a long time. I love her."

Meryl's breath was temporarily lost as she noticed the present tense Vash used. She forced herself to calm. Hadn't she been in love with Charles _and _Vash…? Sort of?

"Wait…Vash… Clint's father is dead. He was a plant too. Are you saying you two discovered you're biologically his father? Who is she, Vash?" Meryl wondered. What human would have had the opportunity of meeting and loving two plants?

"Clint's father isn't dead. Not anymore."

Meryl's mind was running in circles. "I'm confused," she announced.

"I know." Vash sighed. Again, he put his arm around her as if supporting her against the blow he was about to deliver.

Meryl heard the clock ticking on the wall. Her thoughts wandered again to a ridiculous idea.

"Meryl," Vash addressed seriously.

Her eyes automatically returned to his calm face.

"Remember when I told you plants don't affect Clint normally?"

Meryl couldn't answer. Her heart was beating so heavily it seemed to have launched up into her throat.

"Clint's… not from this year."

"What do you mean?" Meryl managed to ask, after swallowing down her heart again.

"Clint's from the future. He's from a different time. Er… He's not my son…yet."

Meryl searched his expression. He was being serious, but he looked vulnerable and insecure.

"Who?" Meryl asked before her beating heart took over her vocal cords.

Vash's eyes seemed to burrow into hers; exchanging the answer without making any noise.

Meryl jolted up as if she had been electrocuted. She staggered away from the bed. Heat rose on her body. She clutched the neck of her blouse, trying to silence her beating heart. She stared at Vash, waiting for him to exclaim that this was all some sort of prank. The moment never came. His face was serious. His eyes were vulnerable.

She could hardly think the words, let alone say them out loud. Her mind had trouble traveling in that direction.

Vash hadn't moved an inch since she had jumped off the bed. He watched her.

"Vash." She gasped when she finally found her voice. "Vash!" She said louder. His name was the only word that she could form. She had no idea how to start, how to explain what she was thinking. Her thoughts were completely jumbled. "Vash!"

He slumped down lower, outstretching and using his hands for support.

Meryl was still incapable of forming words.

They stayed frozen for what seemed to be minutes.

Both of them jumped when Millie wandered in.

"Packing?" She asked them cheerfully. "I had to stay after because the Chief—"

She stopped when she caught Meryl's bewildered expression. Her wide eyes and slack mouth looked unusual on her.

"Is everything alright, Meryl?" She asked.

Meryl's face was blank. Apparently, she still was unable to make coherent sentences.

Vash slid off the bed and went to Millie.

"I'm glad you made it home, Millie. I think Meryl left one of her shoes in the living room. Could you go look for it?" He asked.

"Yes. Of course I'll look for it, Vash. Anything to help." She responded.

"Thanks. She'll need it for the trip tomorrow."

"I'm on it!" She declared and left the room.

Vash quietly closed the door after her. He felt more uncomfortable once it securely shut.

"Listen," he broke the silence, "I don't want it to be a problem. I don't want you to worry about it. There are a lot of complications that go into this, and life is just starting to get normal. I'm not asking anything from you right now."

He waited for her answer, but when there was no reply, he looked at her.

"Vash," she said again.

"I don't intend to rush it on you." He explained, hoping to soften her striking features.

"No. It's not that." She answered abruptly.

Inquisitive, Vash waited for the explanation.

"Vash, why didn't you tell me? From the start? It would have solved so many problems!" She exclaimed.

Her answer caught him off guard.

"Wha-?"

"I mean the whole Charles problem and everything else. If I had known, I would have left him a lot sooner." Meryl elaborated. "Why didn't you tell me? What if something had happened to Clint because of my behavior?"

"I didn't want it to push you away. Everything would have become more tangled. And what if you had only left Charles because I had told you about Clint? I didn't want to live my life questioning your motives."

"Vash…" She sighed. "Of course I love you."

"It was important to me that you make the decision on your own." He explained. "I'm a walking disaster, remember?" He flashed a small smile. "Why would you really choose me over Charles?"

"Vash, you broomhead, you were always my first pick." She told him as she wrapped her arms around him in an embrace. "Whatever you are, you're good enough for me."

Millie returned with Meryl's shoe and they broke apart. Meryl glanced back at Vash, surprised. She hadn't even noticed she was missing one of her shoes, she thought Vash had just sent Millie on an impossible task.

"Here you go, Meryl."

Millie handed over the shoe.

"Thanks, Millie." She answered, slightly breathless. She glanced at Vash again before packing it.

"Anything else I can help you with?" Millie asked.

Meryl shook her head in response.

"I'll start on some dinner then."

Millie disappeared again.

"I'll give her a hand," Vash responded suddenly.

Before Meryl could stop him, he was out of her room. Meryl sighed again. The emotions inside her were competing for her attention. She folded a skirt and placed it in her luggage bag. Then, she retreated to her bed. On her stomach, she stretched out across the covers. Her hands supported her chin.

Clint was her son by Vash.

Although anxiety twisted her stomach, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Finally, an emotion overpowered all the rest. Surrealism crept through her, but more powerful than that was the sudden hit of elation. The elation bombarded her all at once. Her heart pounded heavily, but the sensation felt good. She felt alive.

Clint was coming back. She really was going to be with Vash, seriously. Why was he so worried? Didn't he know how long she had wanted him? She thought wildly. And didn't he want to be with her? _Finally_?

Pregnancy obscured her mind and she began to feel slightly nauseated. She took a deep breath. 'Vash said we're in no hurry,' she reminded herself. Did he really need to help Millie? Why wasn't he with her right now? 'Okay. Calm down.' She inhaled a deep breath. 'First things first. We're leaving tomorrow.'

She pulled herself off the bed and returned to her packing. She paid minimum attention to what she was doing. She felt like she was missing something again now that she was all alone in her room.

….

The trip to December was the shortest Vash had ever experienced. The distance from Damron to December was longer than any of his other trips, but he was surprised how fast the journey felt. Perhaps it was due to the fact that they weren't severely anxious or stress driven. Most of Vash's nerves crept up when he spotted the gaunt, run-down orphanage. He had his silver handgun, just in case Chame was there… just in case he needed it. If he didn't see the man on their visit, he would ask Lauvie or Sandra if they had seen him lately. If they hadn't, could he conclude that his own plant blood had killed him? Poisoned him with its opposing elements?

He glanced at Meryl.

But if Chame had deciphered its influence and effect… was there anyway to get Chame to tell Vash about it?

Finally, Millie, Meryl, and Vash reached the front door. It looked exactly the same as last time. Last time, Vash remembered, they had come to get information on Chame. Last time, he had learned how to wash an oven properly, and to never pretend to kiss Meryl in front of dozens of people. Last time, Clint and Knives had been with him… but they were both far away now…

Just like last time, Millie knocked on the door.

Meryl grabbed Vash's hand as seconds passed.

"Hello?" Sandra answered. Her sky blue hair was pulled up in a bun today, and she had on an apron. Wildly, her eyes flickered when she took in their faces. She took a double take on Vash. Her hand gripped the door knob more tightly.

"You're supposed to be dead." She stammered.

"Who told you that?" Meryl asked.

She hesitated before answering. "It's all over the media. Vash the Stampede is dead. But I know you're him."

"Don't leave our guests out in the heat, Sandra. It's impolite." Someone called.

Sandra's eyes widened at the voice.

Meryl, Millie, and Vash stiffened. They knew the voice. Chame was alive. He was here.

"No. Lauvie refuses to have any violence here at the orphanage," Sandra disagreed in a shaky voice.

"We've come to return something," Millie explained. "We don't want any trouble."

"What is it then?" Sandra asked.

"I don't think it should be exchanged out in the open. We want to speak to Lauvie also." Meryl pressed.

Sandra hesitated again. Clearly, she had no desire to let them in. She didn't want to mix oil with water.

Vash pulled out an envelope. "We've come to return the money Wolfwood was supposed to bring back for you. We have it. We have all of it."

Numbly, Sandra widened the door and let them inside.

When they entered the living room, Millie, Meryl, and Vash, froze. Chame's gray eyes met them with conspicuous surprise. He was dusty, and looked older than before. A child was sitting next to him, playing idly with Clint's old black sunglasses. A white cat mewed at his feet.

Sandra was calling out for Lauvie.

Chame stood up abruptly.

"What are you doing here?" He asked sternly. "You're supposed to be dead! It's all over the newspapers. Knives shot you!"

"He took my kill." Vash answered slowly. "And by doing so has also provided the money to settle the debt." He held up the envelope.

Chame appeared irritated by the information.

"We have the 60 billion, and we're giving it to the orphanage just as was promised." Vash continued.

Chame's dry hand reached for the envelope, but Vash tucked it away again. Meryl's nerves rose as she watched them.

"I've told you my story. I think I wouldn't be asking too much to hear all about yours," Vash spoke subtly.

Chame's eyebrows lowered.

"I thought you were supposed to be dead." Vash elaborated.

"I have a gift for genetics," Chame answered.

Vash, Meryl, and Millie waited to hear more.

"I was dying," he continued. "Your blood did exactly what Knives and the boy told me it would do. It was attacking me internally. I was vomiting blood. I was lightheaded. I still had the boy's ironic blood in my hands. I examined it quickly. The process was far from simple, but I managed a rough procedure. In order to buy time for my life and extend my researches, I took a dose of Vitamin C."

"Vitamin C?" Vash asked in surprise. How could such a simple supplement extend Chame's life? Even by a little? "Why?"

"Plants, such as yourself, require a dangerously high level of vitamin E. You have this for your immunities. Vitamin E aides in your body's defenses, that's why you heal so quickly. For humans, the high dose is toxic. It acts as an anticoagulant in the blood and has a high probability of causing internal bleeding. This was the most obvious problem, so I fixed it first." Chame had a hint of impatience in his voice. He watched Vash's reaction before adding "Vitamin C can counteract the effects of Vitamin E."

Lauvie entered the room now, putting an end to Chame's explanations. She stiffened at the scene. Then she dismissed the child sitting on the couch. He left the room, mumbling in annoyance.

"I don't want you in here." She told Vash bluntly.

Meryl felt irritation boil in her, but she kept her mouth closed. Chame was the dangerous one. He had killed thousands of people. Vash had more right to be in the orphanage than he did.

"We won't be long," Millie assured.

Vash handed over the envelope to Lauvie.

"60 billion, just as was promised," Vash told her.

She took out the check from the envelope and examined it. Shock washed over her face. Her eyes caught everyone. She appeared speechless for several seconds.

"Thank you," she finally spoke. "We need this money. There is so much the children need."

Water crept into her eyes. Meryl cringed when Millie embraced Lauvie, but no one seemed to mind. Millie could get away with it. Chame diverted his eyes. He still looked irritated.

"Thank you," Lauvie said again. Hesitating, she glanced at Chame. She seemed close to saying something else, but she chose to remain silent.

"I hope this settles any conflicts between us," Vash speculated.

"I hold nothing against you," Lauvie said.

Meryl watched Chame. She knew the words were indirectly meant for him. He didn't speak.

"I hope we can visit again sometime." Millie chirped.

"Me too," Vash agreed.

The insurance girls turned to leave, but Vash didn't move. He gave Chame a long last look. Questions burned inside him, but perhaps asking them now would be too early. He was lucky to get the information he had. Hopefully, in time, Chame would be willing to tell him more, maybe even take up Vash on an offer he had in mind.

Meryl heaved a loud sigh once they were back outside. She sounded how Vash felt. Finally, all the edges of everything seemed to be smoothed over. The money was finally paid to the orphanage and Chame had no more reason to infect any of the remaining plants with Knives gone… All of it was coming to a definite close. Now life was changing for the better.

"I think everything turned out pretty well," Meryl remarked. "Considering the potential problems."

"Let's go," Vash said. He grabbed Meryl's hand with a smile.

"Go where?" Meryl asked, looking up into his crisp aqua eyes.

"Anywhere you want."

"Let's go get some pudding!" Millie insisted.

Vash's smile widened. "Good idea, Millie. What do you want, Meryl?" He asked her. He began swinging their hands together happily.

"I don't know," she sighed again. She felt a little weary. "How about you surprise me?"

"I can do that," Vash said confidently.

Then, without warning, he scooped her up in his arms.

"Vash—?!" Meryl gasped in surprise. Suddenly, she felt wide awake.

Without another word, his lips came down on hers. He kissed her enthusiastically. Meryl felt heat rise on her face. He pulled away and smiled brightly at her expression.

"Finally," he whispered. "I caught my mayfly."


	33. Epilogue

Millie handed over a red wrapped gift with white ribbon to Clint, who accepted it eagerly in his small hands.

"I know your birthday isn't until tomorrow, but I won't be able to stop by until late," Millie explained. "So, I thought I would let you have your present now."

"Cool!" Clint said with enthusiasm.

He started tearing through the red wrapping paper with vigor. Carelessly, he threw down the ribbon and paper scraps. Vash, Meryl, and Millie watched his face light up as he revealed the gift.

"Woah! A Sandsteamer set?" Clint exclaimed, examining the features on the back of the box. "Cool, it really moves in the sand!"

With his little hands, he opened the top of the box. He reached inside to get a better look at his new toy.

"Clint, what do you say?" Meryl asked.

"Thanks Millie." He said, pulling out pieces of the Sandsteamer. Apparently, the toy needed assembling.

"You're welcome," Millie beamed. She was clearly pleased Clint liked her gift. "I hope you have a good birthday tomorrow."

"Mom and dad said I can get to do pretty much what I want tomorrow, 'cause it'll be my birthday." Clint told her. Finally, he ripped his eyes away from his gift and stared into Millie's bright, blue eyes.

"You will have to tell me about it next time I'm over," Millie suggested.

"M'kay," Clint agreed.

"Thanks for having me over," Millie told Vash and Meryl. She always thanked them, even though she knew she was welcome to visit whenever she pleased.

"Anytime," Vash replied.

"Bye, Millie! Come back over soon, 'kay?" Clint said.

"Goodbye, Clint."

Millie gave the little blond child a hug before leaving. Clint's hands were full with her gift, but she didn't seem to mind having plastic parts jab into her. She let go and left their house through the front door.

Vash pulled Clint to the window so they could wave goodbye to her. Clint placed the plastic parts carefully on the window sill to free his hand. Once Vash and Clint caught Millie's eye, she waved back, smiling.

"Now, let's see this new toy," Vash suggested, looking down at the jumbled mess. "Let's put it together on the kitchen table."

Clint scooped up the parts in his arms, while Vash grabbed the box. They migrated to the kitchen, inviting Meryl to join them.

With Vash hovering over him, Clint emptied the remaining contents of the box. More plastic pieces scattered across the dark green table cloth. A few tumbled off the table, but Vash caught them before they fell to the floor. Meryl, Vash, and Clint examined all of the pieces together.

"Instructions?" Meryl asked, extending her hand.

Vash handed her the box. The instructions were the only part Clint had neglected to get out. Meryl grabbed the booklet and opened it. Black and white shapes covered the first page, mimicking the pieces on the table. Each shape was assigned a name. She flipped to the next page where she found the assembling directions. This toy's assembly was surprisingly advanced for a children's toy. She skimmed over the entire page before speaking.

"Okay, first we need to attach the _sand indicator _to the _bridged edge_." She announced. Her eyes left the page to locate the pieces, but they never returned to the booklet. The pieces had already been connected. In fact, half the Sandsteamer was already put together. Her eyes rounded in surprise. Clint was engrossed in concentration while Vash continued to hover over him, giving him nods of encouragement. Easily, their son connected seven pieces together and then attached it to the half of the Sandsteamer.

"Wow, Clint," Meryl managed to say after nearly a minute had passed.

She closed the instructions and pushed them aside, feelings a little… uncomfortable. _This _wasn't normal for a five year old. The toy itself wasn't even recommended for children under seven. Meryl had assumed that Millie had missed the label when buying it, but maybe she had known what she was doing. Perhaps she knew that Clint was already getting bored with the toys meant for his age.

Meryl meet Vash's eyes, but unlike her, he seemed quite thrilled with Clint's progress. He shrugged when he caught on to her concern. This behavior wasn't unusual to him. Meryl couldn't help wondering what other surprises she was in for as Clint experienced his sixth year. Vash and Clint looked just like everyone else on the outside. She often forgot of their unusual abilities when they were living such a mundane, human lifestyle.

Once Clint finished the project, Meryl took him outside to test it in the dirt while Vash finished up some stray dishes in the kitchen

"This is the coolest toy ever!" Clint exclaimed as he watched the Sandsteamer make a course through the upturned dirt.

Meryl observed him direct its new course. He seemed so normal right now, so human. The moment was nice, but the façade was interrupted fifteen minutes later.

Vash finished the dishes and then came outside. He held a glass of water in one hand, and Meryl knew a small white pill was clutched in the other.

Vash watched Clint play several minutes before urging him to take the pill. Meryl frowned when Clint grasped it in his dirty hands, but Vash didn't seem to be worried about germs. He made Clint swallow the pill and drain the entire glass.

Meryl knew she shouldn't let the event bother her, but watching her little son take his white pills reverted her mind back to the Clint she had met years ago—the Clint who had an unstable body, blank eyes, and glowing tears. Apparently, Chame was able to decipher the code to prevent the eyes and tears, but Clint would always be a little genetically unstable. Would he get worse as he got older and had to face life's threats and challenges? Meryl wondered.

"Now, it's bedtime," Vash acknowledged.

"Nooooo." Clint whined. He glanced back longingly at his Sandsteamer, which was sideways in the dirt, then back at his father. "I don't have school tomorrow and it's my birthday tomorrow. Can't I stay up later tonight?" He asked in a small voice.

"Hmm…" Vash said thoughtfully.

Clint grasped his father's vulnerability and continued. "I don't even have to be up early tomorrow, and, and, I'll be really quiet. You and mom won't even know I'm awake!"

Vash glanced at Meryl, clearly torn, but trying not to show it.

"No, Clint, it's time for bed." Meryl told him.

Clint folded his arms and sent his father the biggest pouting expression he could muster. His gigantic, aqua eyes stared at Vash's unblinkingly.

"Sorry, kid," Vash frowned. "If your mom isn't happy, no one is." He explained.

"I'm not moving a muscle," Clint said stubbornly.

"Okay," Vash answered. He scooped the child up in one swoop and carried him inside the house.

"No! No! No!" Clint cried, beating his tiny fists against his father.

"Hey! That's not very nice." Vash pointed out as he hauled the child to his bedroom. "Love and Peace, remember?"

Clint started to laugh, but quickly stopped himself. He put on his pouting expression again.

"If you really loved me, you'd let me stay up," Clint grumbled. Finally, he let his fists fall. The damage they had caused was minimal, if even measurable.

Vash dropped Clint onto his bed. The cream covers wrinkled up under his little body. Clint stared up at Vash woefully.

"It's because I love you that I'm making you go to bed. The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you will wake up and the sooner it will be your birthday. See? It's the perfect plan." Vash explained happily.

"You're just saying that so I go to sleep," Clint complained. He held his head in his hands as if the realization was unbearably disappointing. "I don't want to change into my pajamas or brush my teeth yet. I don't want to go to bed yet."

Vash shrugged the potential threats away. "Fine. You can sleep in your clothes. Goodnight…"

Before Vash could turn around to leave, Clint erupted.

"Wait! I wanted a bedtime story tonight!"

Vash froze.

"_Please_?" The boy asked desperately.

"Hm… I think bedtime stories are for kids who are all ready for bedtime." Vash pointed out thoughtfully.

Clint's frown deepened.

"Goodnight, Clint," Vash said again. He walked slowly passed Clint's child-sized desk, which was covered with paint splotches, and reached for the door knob.

"Wait! If I change and brush my teeth, will you tell me a story?" Clint finally asked.

Vash paused.

"Of course," he answered simply.

"Okay, fine!" Clint sighed. Sluggishly, he pulled himself off his bed, taking the cover half off the mattress in the process. "I don't know why you're so difficult," he grumbled. He reached his dresser and pulled out his pajamas with more force than necessary.

Once he was finally changed into his Sandsteamer pajamas and had the hint of freshness on his breath, he crawled grudgingly under his blankets. Vash pulled out the miniature chair from the desk to sit on, but changed his mind when he spotted some sort of clay or putty attached to it.

"We got play dough at school today," Clint explained before Vash could ask. "Don't worry, once it dries it will just pop off." He slightly grimaced. "I didn't tell mom about it, because I was afraid she would over react."

Vash slid the chair back where it belonged and settled for the end of Clint's bed.

"What kind of story do you want?" He asked

Clint's eyes lit up. He sat up a little more in his bed. Clearly, this was the moment he had been waiting for.

"I want to hear the one about Jake and Max, rescuing that girl from the bandits." His quick answer made his anticipation clear. He had been waiting for this story for hours.

Once his decision was vocalized, his disappointed expression swapped places for Vash's cheerful one instantly.

"Why do you like the ones with guns in it so much?" Vash sighed.

Clint could tell his dad wasn't in the mood to tell an action filled story, but he knew he would hear it nonetheless. At least he would get what he wanted _this_ time.

"Because those stories are the most exciting," Clint explained. "Or… I guess you could tell me the story behind your fake arm… I haven't heard that one..."

"Are those my only options?" Vash asked grimly.

Clint nodded.

Vash took a deep breath and began the story. Although it wasn't his favorite, he had no trouble telling it with enthusiasm. Like usual, he ended up getting too wound up in it and started using dramatized voices. His hands acted as guns, doors, cups, and masks. Towards the climax, he was standing, holding an invisible walkie-talkie in his hand.

"She's in the back! They have her as a hostage! Go Max! We got to get her out!" He called fiercely into his palm. Suddenly, he switched hands, changing his voice into a mix of anxious squeaks. "I'm blocked out! You're going to have to rescue her while I try to find another route."

Then he switched to his narrative tone. "So Jake reached the door where all the bandits were keeping Kate hidden. He pulled out his gun." Vash's voice got quieter. "And then he slowly, carefully, pushed the door open. No one even noticed until he crawled around the back, and then Kate saw him. She was so relieved. It turned out that Max had created a lot of trouble at the other end of the building, so Jake crouched down and hid while four of the bandits left to see what the commotion was. Now only one Bandit was guarding Kate. Jake waited until he couldn't even hear the other bandits' foot steps and then he _jumped_ out with his gun!" Vash extended out his arm, aiming the invisible weapon. "_Bang!_" He fired. "Jake got the Bandit right in the leg! He collapsed to the floor and couldn't even move. Jake quickly untied Kate. _Thank you for saving me_, she told him. _Not a problem, miss._ _I couldn't leave someone like you here, with all of these Bandits._"

"Then Kate grabbed Jake's arm."

Vash froze. He hadn't heard Meryl walk in. His face fell as he tried to recall what point in the story she had entered and what he had been doing when she did. Suddenly, he planted himself back down on Clint's bed.

"And told Jake that she really wanted to find where the bandits had hid her gun, so she could go help him rescue Max," Meryl continued.

"Mom," Clint sighed, "Kate isn't a fighter, that's why she needs rescuing."

"Even fighters need rescuing from time to time." She pointed out.

Meryl glanced at the clock, and Vash followed her eyes. Wow. Had the story been that long? According to the clock, Clint should have been a sleep an hour ago.

"Kate and Jake rescued Max and helped put all the bandits in jail. Kate thanked Jake with a kiss on the cheek." Meryl quickly wrapped up the story.

She kissed Clint on the cheek. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Kate," Clint laughed.

"We'll see you in the morning," Vash said.

He stood up.

"When I grow up, I want to fight off bandits just like Jake."

The innocent comment stirred in Vash's stomach. Meryl caught him cringe before he quickly put on a small smile. He laughed nervously.

"We'll see about that. Goodnight, kid."

Vash tucked the covers around Clint.

"I'll see you in the morning, bright and early to begin your birthday." Vash told him.

"Goodnight." Clint finally yawned.

Vash stepped over one of Clint's stray cowboy toys, while Meryl picked it up and placed it on Clint's paint-splattered desk. She didn't notice the putty attached to the chair. Vash flipped the light switch. Darkness claimed the room.

"Dad?"

"Hm?"

"I know I'm getting too old, but even after my birthday, will you still leave the door open just a little? So it's not so dark in here at night?" Clint asked timidly.

"Of course," Vash replied.

"Thanks."

Meryl and Vash left the room. Carefully, Vash made sure not to close Clint's door all the way.

"Do you miss it?" Meryl asked when they had reached the master bedroom.

"Miss what?" Vash asked, curiously.

"All of the action? Saving the day?"

"Do I _miss_ it?" Vash said in surprise. "I've had enough of that to last a few lifetimes. You know that…"

"I was just wondering after how animated you were telling that story." Meryl said with amusement.

"No," Vash sighed, "I hope I'm done with that. And I hope nothing else comes my way. I think my skills are starting to get rusty. Did you know? I didn't even notice you had walked in."

Although he pointed this out casually, Meryl sensed a twinge of disappointment in his words.

"It's about time," Meryl remarked.

Vash's eyes looked at her inquisitively.

"Finally you're relaxed enough to live life normally."

"You like me like that?" Vash asked with a small smile.

"I like you any way."

Meryl reached up on her toes to kiss him, but Vash still had to lean in before they could meet. Meryl's hands felt comfortably warm on his jaw and soft against his rough skin.

…

'Six years old,' Vash thought.

The night was getting late. He was sprawled out under the covers of the bed. He stared up at the ceiling.

Time flew by so fast… even faster now that he had a home. It didn't seem that long ago that Clint was born. All the nurses were in a hurry… he was holding Meryl's hand, and then later he was holding his son. He remembered feeling a rush of grateful relief when Clint finally opened his eyes and they were full of beautiful color. His tiny, little body felt surprisingly warm. Meryl had insisted on naming him after Vash, even though he greatly disapproved. His heart had sunk when he thought of the horror and annoyances one must go through being named after _him._ The name _Vash _would forever have a terrible connotation to the public. However, she got her way. "Clint" was technically their son's middle name.

Meryl's pregnancy didn't seem that long ago either. Mornings full of sickness, food cravings, and mood swings were the parts that Vash didn't miss. He didn't do well waking up to hearing the person he loved vomiting. However, he did miss the pleasant surprises, like feeling Clint move for the first time, and fathoming the truth of his existence.

Also, he couldn't believe it had been over eight years ago when he had first asked Chame to help him understand hybrids.

Chame. Vash hadn't thought about him in a long time. He was working in the genetic fields now. Vash had promised he would do all he could to help Chame find a job in the field if he helped him with understanding Clint. He wasn't sure Chame would take up the offer, but the opportunity to learn more about the fluke of human and plant hybrids got better of him. Vash didn't enjoy working with him. And Meryl definitely didn't. But they were both grateful for the information and help he had provided. Having him explain aspects they didn't understand helped the whole situation with bringing Clint into the world. Chame was the only one who had explained the real reason behind Clint's original blank eyes. They were effects from his father carrying the plant-killing disease. Thanks to Knives, today Vash's son had big, bright, aqua eyes.

In addition to explaining hybrids, Chame also was able to roughly tell Meryl what she needed to do and expect with her unusual pregnancy. Chame had proved to be helpful, but Vash's relationship with him was uncomfortable, especially whenever Meryl became the focal point. Just remembering the half-demon made Vash's stomach feel hollow. He was glad those days and meetings were over.

"What are thinking about?" Meryl asked, sliding up next to Vash.

"Chame."

Meryl cringed. He laughed, and then wrapped his arms around her, securing her small body to his.

"Why?" Meryl asked, finding his eyes.

Vash could feel her warm breath on his skin now.

"I was thinking about how he helped us with Clint… that's all. It doesn't seem that long ago." He explained.

"Hmm…"

"I can't believe Clint is about to turn six." Vash remarked.

Meryl rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes. "I can't imagine how fast it went for Rem. Adults in a few years."

Meryl felt Vash laugh again. She smiled a little. This was where he belonged now… away from the death and destruction that had followed him for so long.

"Goodnight, Meryl," he whispered.

Meryl was already finding it difficult to open her eyes again. She felt exhausted from the long day.

"I love you, Vash."

She felt him kiss the top of her head.

….

"Wake up! Wake up!"

Someone was bouncing up and down on the bed. Meryl struggled to open her eyes. Vash's arms were still securely around her.

"What time is it?" Vash asked, groggily.

"It's my birthday!" Clint announced. "That means I can do what I want, right? _Right?_"

"It's still dark," Vash remarked.

Clint jumped off the bed and quickly pulled open the curtains. Early morning light entered the room.

"Well… One of the suns is up," Clint observed.

Although Meryl heard no noise, she felt Vash's chest rise and fall in a sigh. Carefully, he unraveled his arms from her.

"Okay," Vash said as he pulled himself from the bed.

Meryl sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"Happy Birthday," she told Clint.

"Thanks," he replied, beaming. The sunlight hit his hair, highlighting the blond.

"What do you want to do first?" Vash asked.

"Can I have some waffles for breakfast?" He asked Vash eagerly. "With extra powdered sugar?"

"Yup," Vash answered at once. "You can have whatever you want."

"Cool! Then I want a chocolate shake to go with it."

Vash glanced at Meryl for reassurance.

She shrugged. "It's his birthday."

Clint rushed out of the bedroom. "I'll beat you to the kitchen," he called.

Vash didn't even attempt to win the race. He was in no hurry.

He stretched his arms and back, and rolled through his neck.

He had plenty of time to spend with his family.

The End


	34. Acknowledgments

Acknowledgments: I had to put this in here, because there are a lot of people who helped me get this story done, and whose support propelled me and encouraged me to write it to the best of my abilities

**Inkydoo** and **Aine of Knockaine** for being the first two people to review my story when my writing was terribly rushed, lacked detail, and had some major out of character parts- I mean major.

**Willow** (who I miss deeply, but must have gotten busy in the real world—no hard feelings) was an amazing supporter of this story and The Favor. Willow wrote great reviews discussing favorite parts, and favorite attributes in the characters. Thanks Willow! :)

**Rak** for just being a great reader and reviewer

**Jaythorne** for also being supportive, and being a person I've enjoyed getting to know a little through her stories.

**cocoa.choco.sprinkles **(who has been very supportive of this story) for leaving me reviews that have helped me improve my writing, and for taking the time to get the plot down well enough to keep me on my toes. Also, thanks, cocoa.choco.sprinkles for starting this story years ago, and then deciding you liked it enough to come back and finish it, and then being patient with me as _I _finished it.

**1uvakindmom, Knives17, **and **LittleSeriNeko**, for the reviews and support. Thanks!

**Nightow**… I think it's self explanatory, but I wouldn't have even written this story if it wasn't for him.

Both of my **brothers **and one of their friends for introducing to me, and helping me buy the Trigun series.

And **you**, reader, (if you were not mentioned above) because you took the time to read my story, and what's a writer without a reader? Writing this wouldn't have been a quarter of the fun it was if I had no one to read it.

Thank you, everyone. I really do appreciate that you took the time to read, because I loved writing it, and finding the time just to do that can be difficult. I probably won't write another fanfic quite so er… elaborate, but I actually am plotting out an original piece. I won't let myself start writing it until I get more English classes under my belt…

In the mean time, I desperately need to clean up some of these chapters, specifically the earlier ones. Thanks again, and have a wonderful, day, month, and year. :)

-Pottachu


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